


Queen of Dragons

by CosmoandMoon123L



Category: Six of Crows - Fandom, The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Bittersweet Ending, Character Death, Character Study, Chinese Culture, DRAGONS!!, Depression, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fluff and Angst, I need more about Shu Han please!!!, M/M, Original Character(s), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Refugees, Shu Han, Sorry this got super long... I couldn't help myself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2020-06-03 16:08:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 63
Words: 171,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19467448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CosmoandMoon123L/pseuds/CosmoandMoon123L
Summary: Once upon a time, in a city called Ketterdam, a bloodstained dragon married a cruel, grief-stricken man who had lost his Wraith to the arms of the sea. Each had supped their fill of life’s miseries, and each swore never to love the other, for love, as they knew all too well, made them weak.At least, that is what they told themselves.They were fools, these two.And what, pray tell, is more dangerous than a fool in love?(If you want to know more about Shu Han and are a die-hard Six of Crows fan, read on! Also, I'm not a native Chinese speaker so please forgive me if my Mandarin sucks... All the canon characters/the Grisha Universe belongs to Leigh Bardugo. Everything else is me :)





	1. Part One: Unnamed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Notes:
> 
> Okay. This is a six of crow fanfic that covers these main ideas:
> 
> • What if Kaz and Inej got married/ had a kid?  
> • What if Inej was lost at sea?  
> • How would life be different after that loss; how would Kaz regress after pretty much losing the love of his life/ being left to raise a kid alone?  
> • What is the culture/people of Shu Han like?  
> • How would Ketterdam be different if it had to deal with refugees/ real racial conflicts that stem from foreign immigrants?  
> • What would Inej be like if she hadn’t had the support and love of her family?  
> • And, of course: DRAGONS!!! Because China is awesome.  
> • (Also, the main character’s culture is like Chinese with a little Indian)
> 
> I’m assuming common Shu is Mandarin; my translations are the best I could do as a non-native speaker so please be kind!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pssst. Just to make sure I'm not writing into the void, if you could leave comments/kudos I'd be thrilled :)

_To the son I never carried, and the daughter I never knew._

_My name is Meiyu of the House of Phoenixes._

_I have not lived a good life._

_There are three simple truths you must know before you begin: first, the mind is bone. Second, the heart is glass. And third, the soul is_ memory _. Each is strong and precious in its own right, and each can be broken._

_This is how mad, monstrous things are created._

_I want you to be happy._

_Learn from my mistakes._

…

Once upon a time (for that is how all good stories begin) in a city called Ketterdam on an island called Kerch, a bloodstained dragon left her bloodstained home in the East in search of a better life in the West. The dragon was a woman, proud and fierce, but she housed a fragile human heart within her fiery bones: a heart made of glass.

In this city, there lived another: a cruel, grief-stricken man who had lost his most beloved Wraith to the arms of the sea; in time, he married again for the sake of his boy- to the dragon woman herself. Each had supped their fill of life’s miseries, and each swore never to love the other, for love, as they knew all too well, was what had made them so weak.

At least, that is what they told themselves.

They were fools, these two.

And what, pray tell, is more dangerous than a fool in love?

…

  
Part One: Fire and Snow

A girl of eighteen crouches over two crying bundles; the look in her eye is shattered glass: sharp enough to cut- to kill. Her hair hangs limp and disheveled in a matted tangle; her face is streaked with filth and blood and tears. You would not know whether to deem her beautiful or ugly, for the wild beauty of her face has been lost under a haze of hysteria, and the ugliness can be found in the swollen, bruised, battered skin; the stomach-turning angle of a shattered wrist; the wild, feral curl of cracked lips that split further as she clutches the sides of her head and screams without words.

They call her mad.

They turn their backs on her, one by one, and let the dark swallow her whole.

“Once I was human,” she sang, “but now I am mad and monstrous.”

Now the rocking begins, and she clutches the two bundles to her- two babies- and wails in her misery and despair: a long, keening cry that mingles with the sobs of her children. She is mad, they say- mad and dangerous for it- and every passersby has learned to avoid that house at the edge of the village, for there are always strange, unearthly noises that come from it- muttering and laughing, singing and screaming, but nothing normal, nothing good. So they keep a wide berth, and never question the poor man who has to be married to such an animal.

She is not a person, the villagers agree. She is a dragon in a cage.

If I am a dragon in a cage, she thought dully, then my master is a cruel one.

And if he is cruel, she thought again, then he should not be my master.

And if I have no master, she thought treacherously, would I be free?

She saw herself: tear-stained, howling, crawling on her hands and knees like a beast, and marveled at the shadow she had become.

And then a cruel, chilled voice inside her whispered: you know what to do.

The girl pushed herself upright- stood on two, strong feet- and summoned the fire inside her, enough for one tongue of flame to light two candles. The candles were set on the dusty ground, and she knelt, bowing before their golden light that was born from the fire that stirred within her own weak body. On her knees once more, she pulled the smoke to her and touched her forehead, letting it wreath her head like a crown. Strength, she prayed. Give me strength.

She had endured, yes, but she was done with being weak.

Like two watchful eyes, the candles’ flame blinked and never wavered.

A horde of coins was uprooted from its every little hiding spot: months and months of planning and hoarding, and now she had enough to buy her bread and her freedom.

A length of fabric was made into slings to hold her precious cargo.

A rope was found, and it was twisted and knotted into a circle of a promise.

All was carried out with the utmost efficiency, until The-Girl-Who-Was-Not-A-Girl sat serenely at her usual place at the hearth: hands folded into a demure little lily, back straight, eyes full of an eerie peace as she swayed to the music that sang strange songs in the emptiness of her head.

Back and forth, she rocked. Back and forth.

The door was opened and slammed closed.

She let herself smile. Just a little.

Grunting, and the hand descended on her, and suddenly it was caught- crushed- the bones cracking with almost baffling ease. Her smile turned colder than ever, for the screams of pain that fell from his lips were sweet as honey.

The man doubled over, reeling with pain, and when he again reached out to strike her, as he had so often done, he found his wrist snapped like a dry twig- once- twice- thrice- and his tall, monstrous wife was suddenly looming over him: her face pale as bone and as she looped the rope around his neck and backed him up- up onto his own chair- to stand at the brink of death. He tried to struggle- fight- but her clever, vicious fingers tightened around his throat, and she happily choked him while he gagged and spluttered and fought against his wine-muddled limbs and smiling demon-wife.

“Please,” she heard distantly as she wound the rope tight around the beam and secured it with a brisk tug. “Please,” he moaned. “I love you.”

Her movements ground to an abrupt halt. “You love me?” She asked, surprised. “But I thought you said I was too ugly to love.”

“No,” he replied quickly, “you are beautiful!”

“I am beautiful?” She repeated, startled. “But I thought you said I was worthless.”

“No,” he replied hurriedly, “you are more precious to me than my blood!”

“I am precious?” She wondered, darkening. “But I thought you said I was mad.” Her eyes turned on him, and he began to shake as a broken smile shivered across her face: baring her white teeth in a grin that could draw blood.

“No,” he replied frantically, “you are completely sane!”

“I am?” She gasped, the shine in her eyes much too bright.

He nodded, doing his best to avoid staring into that terrible brightness.

The-Girl-Who-Was-Not-A-Girl cocked her head, hands wrapped tight around the rope. “You’re lying,” she said quietly. “I am mad, and monstrous, and you know it, don’t you?”

The man turned a sickly shade of grey.

His wife reached out and touched his thundering, shivering heart. A single talon pushed through and pierced his skin so that blood blossomed red against his yellowed shirt.

“I am so mad,” she continued, “that I find I want you to scream before you die.” Her eyes flicked up, burning, and the man began to tremble. “Ask me not to, she commanded. “Beg me.”

“Please,” he whispered. “I beg you.”

The fire in her eyes flared white-hot. “Tell me you love me, she murmured, “And I’ll let you live.”

He nodded.

When she pulled back, the man threw himself into his words. “I love you,” he declared. “You were beautiful and brilliant and full of life, and I saw you dance, and fell in love with you. I loved you when you were a child and I love you now. There is none like you in all the village- all the world! Your family thinks you are a monster. They did not want you. But not me. I saw you, and loved you from the first! I married you even though you were nothing, and I am yours, and you belong to me. We are one and the same, Meiyu!”

He panted, eyes wild and feverish, and as he spoke, he remembered the dancing girl who laughed and sang: how he had wanted her, and how she had chosen him. And in some twisted way, he truly believed he loved her: this mad, monstrous girl.

But what he didn’t see was the girl- woman- had neither laughed nor danced for years. For a while, she only stared at him with her horrible gold eyes. And then she said, “I believe you.”

The feeling that crashed down on him was heady indeed. He reached out to her, giddy with relief, but his smile faltered as she stepped back, her voice rang cold as and clear as ice.

“Love makes you weak,” she said flatly.

And then he found himself dropping- falling- until-

SNAP.  
…

The-Girl-Who-Was-Not-A-Girl watched her husband swing: wriggling like a worm on a hook. His eyes bugged in their sockets. His lips parted, and there was a most peculiar expression of shock stamped across his purpling face: as if he could hardly believe he was going to die.

Only when he finally stilled did his wife release her grip on the rope.

Suddenly, she spoke to him- softly, humbly- as a woman must speak to her honored husband. “Love made you weak,” she said, “and now you’re dead.”

He hung there- wordless and lifeless- and she found it in herself to smile.

When all was said and done, she gathered up her precious money and her beloved girls, and she walked out of that crumbling, rotting prison into a dead, frozen world. She paused, and- after a moment’s thought- made sure to leave the door wide open: so all the world would know what happened when men believed they could own such a mad, monstrous thing.


	2. First Meeting: Snow (Bonus)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! So I forgot to add this chapter way back, and now that I've figured out how to order chapters on this site... here it is. Hope you guys like it.

Everything was white.

When it snowed in here, the snow came down with eerie, merciless silence. The world became a cold, vicious white. The sky was a sullen grey. And it was freezing. Every time the wind blew through, it whipped the top of the snow up and tossed it in the air like a filmy veil. It howled and moaned as it twisted down the streets.

The streets of the House.

No one, not even the most desperate of the prostitutes, was out on a day like this.

They huddled inside as they slowly froze.

All in silence.

The Menagerie had been a brothel, but it was one of luxury. Inej had been abused, yes, but she had been wreathed in silk when I met her.

She’d been a prized mare. An exotic bird.

The House was a different beast.

The House had become a bloated, diseased predator that had grown fat with women- and thanks to the war in Shu Han, it had more bodies than it could consume. It gulped them down, and it didn’t matter if dozens died from the cold or sickness or their own hand: there were so many coming in, it could afford to lose a few.

Inej was trying to apprehend the Shu slaving ships that had grown fat from the prisoners of war. She had stayed in Ketterdam, with me, but she had wanted to go. She wanted to go and hunt the ships down herself- and she would have, too- but the war had become little more than a massacre. Even the Wraith had to be cautious. 

I was scouting out the House myself while she was at sea.

(I also was mildly curious to see how such an enormous brothel had been able to operate so efficiently in a city where prostitution was “illegal”).

Two women seemed to materialize out of the white haze, shattering the silence.

One screeched in Shu, while the other was silent and empty as the snow-covered landscape with eyes that seemed to cut through the dark like a torch through fog.They were gold, yes- but this gold shifted. Glowed. 

Strange, alien eyes. 

I carefully retreated into the shadows so they wouldn’t see me.

The woman to the left (I assumed one of the House Mothers) had a sharp, pinched mouth, and long, claw-like fingers that wrung the thin woman’s arm and hurled her into the snow, disgust clear on her face.

She landed with a muted thud and shifted weakly.

The woman turned on her heels and walked inside.

A small body was tossed unceremoniously to land with a puff beside her.

The body of a child.

A little girl, skin and bones.

The door banged shut.

I watched as the woman pushed herself to her knees and crawled over to the child, pulling her slack form into her lap. She straightened the bent limbs. Closed the staring eyes. Brushed away the snow and used her threadbare skirt to rub away a streak of dirt that marred the girl’s face. Her arms gathered the girl up in her arms with practiced care and pulled her close. She shuffled around so her back was to the wind. Protecting her.

I watched as she sat there in the freezing snow and the cutting wind, oblivious to the frigid cold, and rocked the child to and fro. Rocked her to sleep.

Death and Suffering are old friends of mine. Cruelty is expected- if not encouraged- as a staple in my line of work. But this was the kind of image that burned itself in your mind. Branded it so you never forgot. You closed your eyes and it flashed before the black again and again

Gathering up the pitiful limp form, the woman slowly rose to her feet and began carrying the dead girl away.

Towards me.

She was a far ways down the street- away from prying eyes- when she saw me.

Her eyes rose, and she stared.

Stared and did not look away.

Her face was blank. She had no idea who I was, but that didn’t matter; she was not afraid. That kind of cold numbs everything so you can’t even feel the warmth of fear.

I stepped towards her and some unknown part of me- the part that now held Inej’s hand without gloves- made my mouth move, made me say: “Do you want to bury her?”

Eyes darting away, her fingers tightened on the body when I spoke to her, clutching it to her.

I was close enough to see how dilated they were. How she seemed to sway instead of standing still. She was drugged. Heavily. The bones in her wrists jutted out, and her face was hollow, colored only with smeared blood. Her enormous, kohl-lined eyes were sunk so deep in her skull they seemed in danger of disappearing. If she stood straight, she would have been almost as tall as me, but she was hunched over- beaten down for so long so could barely stand straight.

Except for her strange eyes and unnatural silence, this woman was- thanks to the layers of filth and misery that had accumulated- was relatively unremarkable in her looks. If she was healthy she might have been beautiful in the way Inej’s knives were beautiful- but here, now- she was not only too tall, but too thin, and the combination of the two made her freakishly skeletal. Her shoeless feet were unbound; low class. Scars littered her skin to the point where it became artfully textured. She was emaciated, drugged, and her crooked wrist had been obviously been broken badly enough- or enough times in the same spot- it had never healed right.

It was painfully obvious this woman was the cheapest you could buy.

I nodded to the little girl again. “Do you want to bury her?” I repeated.

Her eyes were unfocused and blank as they slid over my face. “ _Ting budong,”_ she mumbled in Shu, her fingers twitching, and started to back away. “ _Duibuqi, xiansheng.”_

 _Tingbudong_. _Duibuqi xiansheng_.

I don’t understand. I’m sorry, sir.

She didn’t understand Kerch.

I wracked my brains for the little Shu Kuwei had taught me. “ _I can help,”_ I said slowly. The woman’s face went still as she listened. _“I can help her.”_

Her brow creased. “ _Shenme?”_

My accent must have been truly terrible if still she didn’t understand. I had no idea how to say any of the words I wanted correctly, so I crudely mimed digging a grave.

Something like confusion flickered across her face. Then resignation. When she spoke, it was in Kerch. Her rolling accent was thick with traces of some regional dialect I didn’t recognize. “I can pay you, sir,” she whispered, “for help.

A skeletal hand reached out and brushed my arm.

I felt myself go rigid. My body jerked away violently as the waters rose. “ _Don’t_.”

She flinched back. “Sorry, sir.” Her voice cracked. “Sorry. Sorry.”

I tried to soften my voice. “ _Not want.”_

Her eyes darted chaotically as she mumbled. _“Weishengme ta yao bang wo-danshi- buyao na. Wo bu’dong- wo bu’dong.”_ The frantic words were strung together with barely a breath between them. Animal confusion rolled off her in waves. She sounded half-mad, but I knew better. 

“ _Not want_ ,” I repeated.

Her eyes were flat. Disbelieving. She didn’t blink.

 _“I help you, and her_ ,” I told her. “ _Not want that.”_

Her face smoothed, and I saw a glimmer of her mind break through the clouds of drugs. “Come.” She turned on her heels and shuffled down the street. Around one of the House’s buildings to stop at a small plot of frozen ground. A yard.

A burial ground.

She gently lowered the girl onto the snow.

The white was stark against her shock of black hair.

“Come.” She knelt in and dug through the snow.

I found myself next to her, pushing away the thick white to reveal the ground, frozen solid.

She looked at me, then back down, and I was shocked to see long black talons push through her fingers, tearing chunks of earth away with ease.

I used my knife to hack away at the indent.

She glanced at it without fear.

The skin of her hands was pebbled from the cold- but more than that- it seemed almost translucent and layered and _scaly_.

What _are_ you? I wondered as I watched her dig.

Within minutes we had dug a shallow grave.

She saw me examining the talons and quickly retracted them, as if she forgot they were there. “No tell,” she whispered. “ _No tell.”_

I nodded.

The fear didn’t lift, but it lessened. After all, who would believe me if I told them I’d seen a woman with talons and scales?

Normal again, the woman washed her hands with snow and wiped them off on her skirt.

Her fingers were turning grey.

She carefully picked up the girl and laid her into the crater we had made. “You have money?” She asked tonelessly.

I dug around in my pocket and found a single silver kruge, which I pressed in her hand.

The coin was laid gently on the girl’s thin chest.

It glinted dully against the stained cloth.

Payment for the trip to Heaven.

The woman ran a hand down her cheek and stopped. “She is cold.” The tattered shawl that wrapped around her thin shoulders was quickly pulled off and draped over the small white face, tucked in so the snow and dirt wouldn’t touch her.

We gently scooped the earth back on top of her and pressed it down.

Sealing her in.

The snow would be her final shroud.

I pushed myself up with my cane, my leg howling in protest from the unforgiving cold and sitting on it so long in the sopping wet snow.

The woman remained sitting.

The wind moaned again.

It lifted strands of her long hair, making it hover around her like a storm cloud.

The woman didn’t budge. Her face was blank as she stared at the little mound. She wrapped her arms around herself and stared, and I saw that her shoulders were crisscrossed with whip marks that plunged down her back.

“ _You should go_ ,” I said over the noise.

Nodding mechanically, she rose to her feet and began trudging back: back to the House, back to whatever hell she was living in, her posture slumped; her feet barely moved as she shuffled through the snow, listless step by listless step.

Suddenly she stopped.

Looked back.

She pressed a hand to her lips and extended it out.

_Thank you._

Twisted it to her heart, touched her head.

_I will not forget._

Her eyes were clearer than I’d ever seen them.

They burned.

She turned again and walked on: a single figure set against the white.

I watched as she slowly made her way back to the doors of the House.

The Mother stood waiting for her, arms crossed. She pointed in my direction. Her hands jerked- _pawed_ \- at this stoic, stone-faced woman- looking for money that wasn’t there.

The woman stood, waiting, and when it was done, she lifted her skirt and stepped across the threshold: blatantly ignoring her mistress’ angry scolding. She said something to The Mother, and I saw the slightest hint of defiance glowed in her. Of wordless strength and steel. Of fire.

The Mother’s face turned ugly. 

The woman didn’t make a sound- didn’t even blink- when a hand came darting out to strike her a vicious blow across the face.

Hot red trickled down her chin and she- quite calmly- dabbed it away.

She met her furious gaze with a blank one of her own.

It came as no surprise when the Mother slapped her again, harder.

The woman let her.

A chuckled escaped the woman. Then a snort. Then a full-blown _laugh_.

The Mother’s face creased in confusion.

It was a mad, hysterical, reckless sound- that laugh: rattling down the street and ricocheting off the buildings like a wayward bullet trapped in a steel box. _You can’t hurt me anymore,_ it said. _I have nothing to loose._

She tipped her head back and _laughed_ like it was the funniest day of her life.

The Mother was far from amused. She grabbed the laughing woman by the hair and slammed her- head first- into the side of the doorframe so hard snow shook down.

The laughter gurgled and died.

A line of blood slid down the side of her face.

Every emotion was wiped clean from her face as if it had never existed, then. Her eyes went empty: they slammed shut with the cold efficiency of a prized safe. The key was promptly thrown away. There was nothing that hinted of a mind inside her anymore- just a perfectly quiet, peaceful mask and the wet _drip, drip, drip_ , of blood on the snow.

Yet while the Mother wiped her hand off on her skirt and rained curses down on the woman’s head, she missed two looks that clawed their way across the her face: one was bottomless hate, and the other- the one that lingered the longest- was a crippling hunger for revenge.

But the moment her mistresses eyes turned to her, not a trace of such life could be found. Her serenity and acceptance of such violence- not to mention the sudden, unhinged way she swung from numb and mechanical to fearless and hysterical- felt disquieting in a way I couldn’t explain.

Was this how Inej felt in the Menagerie?

Had she ever reached such a state of insanity?

The Mother finally gave up and stood aside, motioning for her to move, and only then did the gold-eyed woman walk serenely through the threshold with the air of a queen.

The door slammed shut behind them like a tomb.

It felt colder than I remembered.

I shivered.


	3. Second Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey people!
> 
> I tried to edit out the typos but if there are any please help me out. I've read this so many times I'm hopeless by this point.

The hiss of hot oil drowned out the hum and chatter of the humid, cramped restaurant. Steel woks flashes and spun behind the closed doors and people sat hunched over wide bowls of steaming soup filled to the brim with shredded meat and noodles and whole eggs, shoveling the endless strands into their mouths with long wooden chopsticks. 

“The best- and only- Shu restaurant in Ketterdam,” Kuwei declared, wiping his brow. That explained the deeply hostile looks that were aimed at me- not just because I was who I was- but because I was Kerch in an exclusively Shu establishment. 

“I’ve been here before. She knows me.” 

Dubious and sweating, I scowled at him. “You don’t sound very confident.” 

“I didn’t say she liked me.” 

The pungent burn of peppers hung heavy in the air, making my eyes water. 

“I would’ve thought she’d choose somewhere else to work,” I said with distaste. 

“You found Wylan in a tanning shop,” he snorted, helping himself to a battered menu smeared with chili oil. “This is far more appealing.” 

I couldn’t deny that the dishes of food that surrounded us smelled incredible, but food wasn’t why I was here. I wanted a Cursemaker, and this was the last place she had been sighted. 

A slight young woman hurried passed us with her arms stacked full of dishes before Kuwei stopped her. He spoke quickly and quietly in Shu, and her dark gold eyes darted to me nervously as she mumbled her feeble answer. 

“Meiyu Han,” I said sharply. I didn’t have time to waste. “We want to see her.” 

“She not here.” 

A lie, and not a very good one. 

“Yes she is.” 

The girl paled, and Kuwei rolled his eyes at my tone. 

“Get her.” 

She melted into the crowd and didn’t return for some time. 

Somehow, Kuwei managed procure an order of soup noodles, which he dug into while I surveyed the place. 

When the girl came back, she practically crept up to us, wringing her hands. “She not come. You come.” 

I pushed myself up. Grudgingly, Kuwei abandoned his noodles and followed us into the back of the kitchens, ignoring the incredulous stares and whispers that followed us. 

A tall, rail-thin woman stood bent over a pile of misshapen, ugly green vegetables, chopping so fast and so viciously tiny bits of green debris seemed to fly every which way around her. She scooped them up with a slash and dumped them into the pan, pausing only to seize a whole raw chicken and carve it like an expert. The blade in her hand was an enormous rectangle of gleaming steel and stained wood, wielded with the confidence of a person who’d spent their life cooking; it didn’t take a genius to see she wasn’t someone to cross. 

“Qing’wen,” the girl squeaked. 

She didn’t turn around, much less slow. The chicken was sliced, slid into the silver wok, and tossed in a vicious, unforgiving circle. 

“Qing’wen-“ 

“Shenme?” she barked over her shoulder, knife flashing as it sliced the ginger root paper thin. 

“Ah. Han Xiaojie…” 

The knife was flipped and slammed into the wooden cutting more with bone-rattling force. 

The girl leapt back, terrified. 

“Shenme? Shenme? Shuo shuo shuo!” 

“Han Meiyu!” Kuwei called cheerfully. “Haojiu bujian!

Her eyes snapped to him, a black scowl materializing on her blotchy face. 

Wisely, the girl fled the scene. 

“Oh,” she said flatly. “It’s you.” The obvious disdain in her voice was almost laughable. When she saw me, though, something flashed by, and I knew from her deadened gaze that she saw the snow, and the girl, and the blood. 

Clearly, she wished she had forgotten the whole thing.

“What business?” She said shortly. 

“Five minutes, and I’ll never bother you again.” 

She snorted brusquely. Barehanded, she flipped the chicken with the tips of her fingers and wrenched the smoking wok off the flames to lead us into a tiny shoebox of a room to sit. The purposeful way she lowered herself into the chair was positively royal: unhurried and unyielding. Her posture was impeccable. Her expression was surly. 

It felt vaguely as though I stood before a judge for a crime I was yet to commit. 

“Well?” she inquired shortly. 

“I contacted you two months ago-“

“Dui, wo zao.” Strands of her hair stuck to her ruddy face and she batted them away impatiently. “I said no. No is no. Tingdong’ma?” 

Kuwei smiled in his lazy, obnoxious way. “Come now, Meiyu-“ 

The glare she gave him had enough venom in it to kill an army of men. “Bizui, Yul-Bo.” 

His smile faltered. 

Things couldn’t get much worse, so I got straight to the point. “You’re wasted here.” 

Meiyu Han’s eyebrows shot up. 

“Why is someone like you working as a cook?”

“My choice.” 

“You can’t be making much here.” 

“I own ‘here’,” she countered blandly. 

Kuwei made a noise that sounded vaguely like a snort. 

“Sell it, then. Work for me, and I will pay you more. Much more.” 

She crossed her arms. “Mr. Brekker. I say no, because I not need you. You need me.” 

I leaned on my cane. “This,” I waved my hand around the room, “will not last forever.” 

Her eyes darkened to a dangerous shade. 

“You believe you’re safe, but you’re not. You will never be. Sooner or later, the slavers will find you, or Customs will send you back to Shu Han. Either way, you’ll be dead within the year.” 

“You threaten me?” She spoke softly, but her words carried; the noise from the kitchen seemed to fade in the background. 

I wondered whether she would kill me, damn the consequences. 

“Meiyu-“ Kuwei began. 

Her teeth flashed sharp as razors. “Guole.” 

Finally, he fell silent. 

Rising out of her chair, her presence filled the room like a rearing snake; the pulsing light in her eyes gave them a crazed, unnatural glow. “Leave,” she said, “or I kill you both.” 

I needed a Cursemaker, and she was the only one I wanted. I met her frigid gaze with one of my own. “What can I offer that will make you agree to work for me?” 

The fire sunk low in her eyes as she examined me. The smile that snaked across her face was ancient and full of knowing, and a golden mist slipped between her fingers, now tipped with the long black talons of a dragon. “You want this,” she mused. “But what would you give?” 

What would I give?

For revenge, I’d give almost anything. 

Kuwei’s face was pale in the gold light. “You’re Cursemaker?” 

She turned her monstrous eyes on him, and he seemed unable to meet them. “Shi.”

When she turned her burning gaze on me, I made sure not to break eye contact. Weakness wasn’t something you ever showed to predators. “Name your conditions,” I said quietly. 

“Safety. Money. Freedom. Freedom most of all.” Hunger and bitter resentment gave her the voice of a much older woman. “You are free. I am not.” 

“I can’t buy your freedom. You do realize that.” 

“No.” A thin smile twisted across her lips. “But there is another way.” 

I had an idea what that smile meant for me. 

“Marry me. Buy a Cursemaker,” she said, soft as rain as hard as steel. “That is my price, Kaz Brekker: your money, your power, and your freedom. I will not accept anything less.” 

Lost for words, Kuwei looked at both of us as if we were mad. 

It was mad. 

It was mad, and stupid, and it took me less than a second to answer. 

“Done.” 

Neither of us shook hands, but the ribbon of magic that wrapped around my wrist was more binding than any worldly agreement. 

She had her freedom. 

I had the strongest Cursemaker alive. 

Inej was dead. This marriage was little more than a technicality- a footnote at the end of a contract- because now I had my Blood Dragon, and I would have my revenge exactly the way I wanted it.  
  



	4. Third Meeting (Meiyu)

I sat with my hands in my lap, my fingers drumming out a senseless rhythm. There’s not much to do when you’re waiting for your next soon-to-be husband after arranging your own marriage. 

A gurgling, squelching rumble rolled through my stomach, and I pressed my hand onto my abdomen in hopes of forcing it away. Saints that noise was revolting! I hadn’t eaten much- not out of nerves- I had been nose to nose...discussing...my terms of payment in our marriage contract...By the end of it he was flexing his hands in a way that implied he wanted nothing more than to strangle me, and I wanted to Curse him stupid. Somehow we did manage to find a middle ground: we both saw the other as too smart for their own good. It was a long, hair-tearing experience that meant no dinner.

My eyelids fluttered and I yawned, bored. 

Once again, I was waiting to meet my husband, and for an instant I remembered the terrified girl I once was: the girl who had been raised to be married. How long ago that seemed. 

I was matched and promised as a girl just shy of six to a man from and poor- but respected- family. It wasn’t until I was 13 when I was handed over to him for him to do with what he pleased. I had never met him before, nor he me. 

He was a hard, thick man, my darling husband- 30 years my senior with a taste for the young. Our horoscopes foretold a long and prosperous marriage, but other than that, we were about as well matched as the plague and a crowded city. He was (probably) the father of my children, but there was no love between is. We lived on the other side of the village, but it might as well have been the other side of the world, for I was rarely allowed to leave the house.

I was with him for five miserable years.

He’s dead now, and I can’t say I’m sorry.

Now, I am 24, and my “husband” is the Bastard of the Barrel. I suppose I should’ve been more worried. But this was one song and dance that I was very familiar with: a mutual agreement between two parties for profit. 

After all, love isn’t the point. If it was, we’d all be disappointed. 

Or dead.

I chose something infinitely more important than love: I chose freedom. Security. And, if I’m being honest, money. Lots and lots of money. 

Sometimes it’s better to prepare for the cold then hope for the warmth. It hurts less. 

I am one of the most feared, sought-after women in Kerch. It’s a fact that I revel in daily…power is intoxicating when you’ve spent your life feeling powerless. 

I have the ability to change a person’s fate, and that kind of power was enough to turn the heads of the kings and crime bosses alike. The latter came slithering to me like leeches starved for blood, coaxing, bribing, urging me to join them. I turned them all away. And those who dared to threaten me never lived to tell the tale. 

But when Dirtyhands himself came to call- ah, then I was more than happy to listen to his proposition. They claimed that his god was Greed- that there was nothing he wouldn’t do for the right price. I agreed wholeheartedly- after all, he was marrying me!

Oh, I wasn’t bothered by the knowledge. Marriage was an… inconvenience. But it was a necessary step if I wanted to walk the streets a free woman. He hated it. I hated it. No matter: we both wanted what the other had. So… we got married: signed the contract, got a witness, and just like that, I went from one form of bondage to another. I even got a simple iron wedding band in the deal! It amused me to no end. 

His “crows” were horrified to say the least. They looked at me like I was the embodiment of Death itself- a fairly accurate description. And Brekker? Brekker they looked at like he had lost his mind. Like he was betraying his Wraith. He may have loved once, I heard one say, but when she disappeared, every kind word and good deed that might have saved him went with her. 

But this was of no consequence. After all, there’s no rule that you had to like your employer- much less your spouse. 

No, I am proud to say that I pulled myself from the misery of the House and filth of the slums on my own. I had fought tooth and nail to be where I was, and Dirtyhands did not, and would never, own me. 

The candlelight reflected off my shimmering silk dress, skipping off the dips and folds of the gown like a stone off water. ‘Such a bold color looks lovely on a pretty Shu girl like yourself!’ The dressmaker had declared. I scoffed. I was not “lovely”, and I hadn’t been a “girl” for years. I examined the rich crimson hue with distaste. Red was the color of marriage and luck, but I didn’t like it: it looked like fresh blood to me. Still, I thought I might as well look the part. 

I had spared no expense. My dress, my face- all of it was armor of a different kind.

My hair was glossy black and coiled into a thick bun, studded with large gilded pins in the shape of leaves and flowers that lay glittering in the sable locks. Seed pearls were set in gold, and they hung suspended from the pins in clusters like droplets of the moon. An intricate gold ornament set with a teardrop-shaped blood ruby the size of a walnut dangled from the crown of my head, completing the image. 

Once, I was little more than garbage on the street. 

Now I was a queen in my own birthright. 

A thick lace veil fell across my face and ripple down my back, criss-crossing in delicate flowers and mandalas. Traditionally it would have been a single square of opaque red silk to obscure my vision completely, but I didn’t fancy being blind on my wedding night. 

I glanced to the other side of the room and stared at myself in the mirror. I had a round face with a single crimson dot of ruby paste smeared between my eyebrows, the mark of a bride in my village. Pale gold skin from my mother’s side, unusual for women in my village. Full, downturned lips painted a vicious red. Too-high cheekbones that carved severe shadows like swaths of black paint, and my nose jutted out from my face, slightly crooked. Slanted eyes ringed with copper and shot with pure gold. Tiger eyes. 

They called me the Blood Dragon. I liked it. It was a far cry from the weak, drugged girl who had first arrived in Kerch as pleasure slave for the House. 

She had been shattered glass. 

I was iron. 

I looked at my face. It was too sharp and dangerous to be truly beautiful- life had done its best to ensure that- but at its core, it was a well-made face. A face of the village. 

With a shock, I realized I looked very much like my mother. 

I looked away, uncomfortable. 

The door opened abruptly, and my head snapped around. My husband.

He was almost exactly the same, but somehow, colder. Wholly unforgiving. Grief frozen to cold steel: bent into the shape of a man. His skin was as pale as ever. Smooth black leather gloves covered his hands. Dark eyes locked to mine, and took me back and back and back: to the cold winter mornings I spent starving and shivering in the House. 

To the first time we met, all those years ago. 

I remember you, I thought. At the time, I had been so drugged, and so weak, I could barely recall what happened; it was like a dream. 

What I did know was he had helped me bury her and asked nothing in return. 

But there was no warmth to be found in him now. 

The House Whore and the Man in the Snow were no more. 

They were dead, and I was glad for it. 

His hand curled around a gleaming cane, tipped with the silver head of a crow, and I felt faint ripple of fear curl through me, much to my irritation. It had been many years since I felt the crack of the cane across my back, the bite of metal thudding into my bones.

I pulled the cumbersome veil from my face. “Kaz Brekker.”

He stared at me. “Meiyu Han.” 

He didn’t botch the Shu tongue like others did. I was almost impressed. 

With liquid grace I slowly rose from the seat, standing almost as tall as him. Every inch of him seemed to be wrapped in black. Only his head was bare. I had heard the stories about Kaz Brekker- about why he kept himself so covered. They were as stupid as they were ridiculous. My guess was he was trying to avoid skin contact. 

He reminded me of a man- the man-who-was-always clean. That man was immaculate in a sterile, dead way: clean like a surgical tool. Every time he came to the House he would complain about how dirty I was. If I weren’t clean enough, he would beat me. I made sure he died as he had lived: without one speck of dust on him. 

My eyes scanned Brekker and his fine cane. The leg that rested slightly crooked. Badly broken at one time. Never healed right. Most likely it had been shattered in several places at a young age: he carried himself in a way that spoke of a lifetime of experience as cripple. I suspected that even with the bad leg he could bash my skull in faster than I could curse. I wondered how much he could read from me. 

I spoke in a crisp tone, but my rural accent was thick. I hated how foreign it made me here. “We both know what this is,” I twisted the iron band idly around my finger, indifferent. “A business deal.”

He nodded. “You receive safety under my name, plus a share in the profits. Whatever you get outside of your assignment is yours alone, but don’t try to hide it from me, or I will know.”

I barely repressed my snarl. As if he could punish me. “I am not a slave.” 

“You work under my name, so you will answer to me.” There was a definite warning underneath his cool tone. This conversation was one big game- and I knew all too well the dangers of underestimating your opponent. 

I bared my teeth in a mockery of a smile. “The day a man thinks he controls the sea is the day he drowns, Mr. Brekker.” 

His face hardened. 

I shrugged nonchalantly. “We are allies. I kill you, no profit. Stupid. Useless. And if you not want me, I find other person. Pays more. We both profit this way.” I folded my hands, prim. There was no room for false modesty of a sense of morality. “I am no mere assassin. Bodies, minds, cities, souls- I can destroy all. Very easy.”

Something like contempt flashed across his eyes, but it disappeared quickly. With a rap his cane hit the wood floor. “Let’s drop the act. Keep it simple. No playing. No lies.”

I inclined my head mockingly. “Of course.”

My first of many lies. 

“We are bound together by a mutual contract. I want there to be no questions concerning who runs this city. You want to live here without to the fear of slavery.” 

I shrugged.

“You’re here, which means you have no one and nothing more important than profit.” My insides clenched at his biting words. “I believe we understand each other.”

I looked at him. Shrewd, calculating, hard and cold as ice. I felt like I was looking back at myself, So I simply nodded.

He turned sharply and began to leave.

“So, you will not claim your prize?” I called, gesturing to my body. “It is your right.” 

His head turned back to me, a hard expression on his face. “No.” 

I smiled coldly. “If you change your mind, I will wait.” 

He raised a brow. “Don’t tell me you want me to?” 

“My body is yours, Mr. Brekker. What I want has no meaning here.” 

“Then why would you ask?” 

“This is business. Business means payment.” I shrugged. “I do not want to owe you.” 

His back was a dark wall in the doorway. “I will not force myself on you.” It was just a feeling of mine, but I could tell he meant it.

“Very well.” I tipped my head. “Goodnight, Mr. Brekker.” 

He seemed satisfied by my candor. The quiet thump of the cane on the floor was the only sound of his retreating.

I sank back into the hard wooden chair. 

The bed loomed in the corner of my eye: stark and hideous. 

I hated the sight of it.

I felt my weariness in my bones like an ache. Today, I was the wife of the most powerful, feared “businessman” in all of the city. Maybe in all of Ketterdam. A strange, savage pride seized me when I thought of the fear and respect I had earned. 

I crossed the room and locked the door. All Cursemakers could expose their scales at will, but there was one special scale that faced the other direction at the center of our chest. It was cleverly hidden- and for good reason- for this scale was a secret kind of…pocket: a pocket that could be flipped open to store useful and precious things. Only the Cursemaker themselves could open it, and I did so now, reaching in to pull out my locket. It was only thing I had left from my life Before. 

The locket itself was rectangular and flat, carved from pale green jade. A tiny dragon curled around the edges, and delicate Shu characters set in polished gold gilded the stone. It was an heirloom given to me on my wedding day: a gift from my mother’s grandmother, the only other known Cursemaker in my family. With a soft click, it opened. 

There once was a tiny piece of parchment nestled inside, folded many times. 

On the paper had sat a young Shu woman- girl, really- with hollowed cheeks and a pale, round face, hair pulled back into a thick coils and knots and held together with a fine tortoiseshell comb. She was dressed in her best qipao with loops upon loops of cheap brass jewelry encircling her slender neck and wrists. The girl’s eyes were dark and sad for such a young face, but she stared straight at the artist, mouth set in severe, uncompromising line. She might have even been pretty if she smiled, but instead her she held herself with an air of quiet dignity. Truly, the Shu were a proud people. 

Her arms had cradled two babies- identical as two grains of rice. They lay swaddled in blankets, eyes dark and sleepy, tiny fists clenched. 

Strange, I thought, to have seen myself so young. 

My husband had paid an artist to draw a portrait of his wife and children for the Hundredth Day celebration of our children- Xiaohui and Chenlin, Morning Sunlight and Morning Willow. They were the first of my babies to be born alive. Granted, the portrait was commissioned more out of adherence to tradition (and guilt) than love, but in the four years I was married to him it was the kindest thing he had ever done. 

It had been a beautiful piece of art: the black and grey of the charcoal was soft and muted, seamlessly flowing from one line to another: sometimes the strokes were thick and textured, and sometimes they were thin and delicate. You looked at it, and it was almost as if you could almost reach out and touch the soft pleats of her dress, the glossy hair, the gentle hands curled protectively around the babies. The artist had been skilled at capturing the image as much as the spirit; I blessed his name a hundred times for it. 

It had been the only picture of myself- and my daughters- I possessed, and that made it precious beyond measure. I had left it with them the day I had ran. The girl’s face bloomed in my mind: already beginning to blur. She was so young. I barely knew her. 

Had I changed so much? 

I used my skirt to gently polish the old, worn jade. The locket’s pulsed in my hand, reassuring as my own heartbeat. I had enchanted it so that as long as the light remained, my children were alive and well. I was a dragon, and every dragon holds a treasure close to their heart. 

“You have no one and nothing.” The words dug into me, twisting like a knife. 

I did have something, I thought. But I couldn’t keep it. I tucked the locket back into my scale. 

I had to let them go. 

A single drop of saltwater fell down my face onto my dress. 

It burned like acid.

Time to survive.


	5. Language (Year 1)

A man torqued my arm, grinning manically at my pained hiss. “No scream?” he taunted, sour breath fanning hot over my neck. 

Never. I bared my teeth, letting my eyes go black as pitch. 

The grip slackened. “Wha-“ 

With one twist I pivoted out of his grip, pulled his leg out from under him, and watched him fall, his mouth dropping with him. 

A spear of magic buried itself in his skull with a wet splat, pinning him to a nearby building. His swung there like some gruesome ragdoll with a nail through its head. 

“No scream,” I said apologetically. I curled my finger in and the magic yanked out of his ruined face, leaping back into my palm. 

His body fell with a dull thud, blood and gore spreading through the cobblestones in dark lines. 

I turned around only to see my dearest husband being throttled by giant. His eyes connected with mine, and he glared at me as if to demand, “Well? What the hell are you waiting for?” 

My fingers flicked, and a ribbon of golden mist went sailing through the air to wrap around a man who had his hands wrapped around my husband’s throat. 

It snapped his neck like a dry twig. 

He pushed himself up, making sure to grind his cane into the gut of the dead man for leverage.  
“You certainty took your sweet time,” he snarled. 

Fighting three times as many men as you, I added snidely in my head. 

(Granted, I didn’t know what he meant by “sweet time,” but judging by his irate state he was thoroughly pissed.) So I settled for a shrug. 

Kaz grimaced and stepped towards me, cane held aloft. “Duck.” 

I dropped to the ground just as Brekker’s cane swung over my head, connecting with the skull of the man behind me with a satisfying crack. I lazily swiped it out of his hand and spun- ignoring his irritated glare- and whipped it through the air like the old fighting staffs I used to spar with. The last attacker sneaking up behind Brekker gaped at me, eyes widened in fear as he saw the silver crow’s head whistling towards him in a blur of silver. It connected with a satisfying crunch, his head snapping to the side, and down he went. 

I saw a tooth fly into the open space like a small, shining pebble. It sailed into a beautiful arch, suspended for a moment against the sky like a chip of the sun. 

Solid gold! 

I reached up and plucked it out of the air. A small chunk of bloody gum stuck to it, and it was a bit slimy, but gold was gold. I flicked the meat off, buffed it on my shirt, and admired it. Saints, this man was rich! The tooth looked custom made- probably by Grisha metalworkers. I was thoroughly impressed. 

Brekker limped towards me and thrust out his hand. “Cane. Now.” 

I smirked and tossed it back. 

He examined the mess marring the silver. “It’s covered in spit and blood.” 

I shrugged. “That is not my fault.” He could clean it himself. I was no boot-licking servant kowtowing for his approval. 

Out of the corner of my eye I saw one stray man from the group trying to run away to call for help. Well, not running. More like stumbling. He could barely walk a few steps before falling. 

It was rather pathetic to watch. Like watching a drunk try to do the waltz while blindfolded. I fought an absurd, deeply inappropriate urge to laugh. 

“Are you going to put him out of his misery or not?” Brekker asked mildly. 

I looked at him, confused. “You mean kill him?” 

“No, I mean invite him to tea and biscuits.”

My brows furrowed. “Shenme? Bis-cuts?”

“Kill him!” He forced the words through his teeth, annoyance and condescension in every syllable. I had a feeling it took every ounce of control for him not to add, “you idiot.”

“I am not stupid, Brek-‘

“He’s getting away.” 

I spared a glance over my shoulder. “Is he?” I said, sarcasm thick in my voice. 

For a moment I thought I saw something along the lines of amusement flash across his face, but I wasn’t very good at reading him. (Really though- who was?) “Yes. He’s made it about…” he squinted. “Six feet.” 

I snorted crassly. Ha! Weakling Kerch. If “getting away” meant practically dragging yourself along with your hands, cursing and whimpering, then yes, maybe he was. But this was more like… slithering? Belly crawling? Something like that. 

Kaz raised an eyebrow meaningfully. 

I rolled my eyes. “Fine.” I thrust my hand out and the light arched through the air, wrapping around his legs. He was lifted into the air with a yell. I slashed my hand downwards and slammed him to the ground with brutal force.  
He didn’t move again. 

“At last. You did your job,” he said snidely. 

I bowed mockingly, but deep down, I was still fuming from his condescending mockery of my broken Kerch. I hated being reminded I was a foreigner. 

Kaz took note of the destruction, a slight grimace of distaste hovering around his mouth when he spied the corpse with a gaping hole its his head. “That was messy.” 

“Death is often messy,” I observed dryly. 

He took his hat off and brushed the dirt off with meticulous strokes.“What happened to Cursing them into oblivion?” 

“This is easy. Cursing too…ob-vis?” I shook my head. That didn’t sound right. “How to say, ‘many people see?’” 

“Obvious,” he corrected. “Too obvious.” 

“Yes.” I hated that my accent was thicker than Zemeni molasses.

“You still should have brought a gun. Or knives.”

“I don’t need them.” 

He pointedly ignored me. “Next time, bring your own cane.” 

I kept my face perfectly straight. “Of course, my lord.” 

That got him to scowl. 

We both looked down at the men scattered across the ground. 

The thugs had been thoroughly beaten: bones broken, blood seeping from wounds, not one sound. I couldn’t tell how many of them were dead. Probably all. A spare leg twitched and a groan eked out of the corresponding mouth. The man-shaped lump started to move.

Brekker casually pulled out his gun and promptly shot him. 

The moaning stopped. 

I frowned. “Really?” 

“Almost dead is never as good as completely dead.” He pocketed his gun and tucked his cane back under his arm. “He would have gone back to his boss and we would have had to kill him in another long, drawn-out fight. This way was faster.”

“Fair.” I deftly stretched my muscles out. That man had twisted my arm to the breaking point...until I shot him. I snorted. Fool. “You get what you want?” 

With a flick of his wrist I saw the flash of thick, rich sheepskin paper. Of course. He got exactly what he wanted, and another parasite would rue the day they ever crossed Dirtyhands. I had to admire the man for his ability to ruin lives. Not many people could cause so much damage so efficiently without the aid of magic. 

I nodded. Except for my occasional goading and half-hearted attempts at black humor, we never wasted breath on idle chatter. I raised my hands, and one by one the bodies melted away into dust which disappeared into the air, leaving nothing but a few smears of blood and the mangled body as a warning. 

Without a word we turned on our heels and quietly walked out of the alley. People watched us from across the street. Fear. Respect. Envy. Hate. Everything and more was painted across onlookers’ faces as they caught sight of Brekker. 

I was feared only because I walked next to him. 

No matter. With power came attention. My name was known across Shu Han, but here? I was just another crony of Brekker’s. 

“Well, Cursemaker, it’s been a productive day.” 

I gritted my teeth. Cursemaker. I was nothing more than my power to him. “It has, Brekker. Certainty...bu, Bu. Nashi cuole… certainly.” I growled at my stuttering. So many different words- they all sounded the same! In Shu we would just have one word! Kerch was as scattered as it was contradictory. 

Brekker didn’t laugh or smirk at my stumbling tongue. “I had a… friend, who was Shu. I’ve learned some, but not enough for much of a conversation.” He spoke clearly and with purpose, each word crisp. Unlike some, he didn’t talk down to me when he noticed my accent and limited vocabulary. 

“You have friends?” It came out as a stilted joke. Not quite serious, but not exactly funny either. 

“Yes.” 

”How you can… afford...them?” 

“You can buy a lot with the kind of money I have.” 

I barely suppressed from rolling my eyes. “Ah.” He was, of course, disgustingly rich. I wouldn’t have married him if he were anything less! 

I wished I could speak Shu, or even the language of my village. It was so tempting to fall back into the comfort my own tongue. I missed the fast, lilting tones. The speed. English always rolled off my tongue slower than I wanted. But if I wanted to get around I needed to learn Kerch as soon as possible.

I thought back to who was waiting for us, and smiled behind my scarf. 

We arrived home, sloughing off our coats. Night had fallen, and I felt a strange sort of peace.

Naj-Brekker’s four-year-old son scampered around the corner, grinning as he caught sight of us. “Da’s home. And Miz Meiyu.” He craned his neck around. “Unkie Jesper! They’re home!” he hollered. 

I hid my smile at his squeaky voice. I secretly loved how he called me “Miz Meiyu”. 

Brekker hated it. 

Jesper winced comically, rubbing his ears. ”Ghezen! No need to yell so loud.” A slight man with curly red hair followed him into the room. Wylan. They both sent me a small smile in welcome. Wylan’s was nervous. Jesper’s was slightly forced. 

I nodded politely, but it did not return if. Smiling felt awkward and forced, as if my muscles had forgotten how to do it. 

Kaz knelt down and watched his son run over and gently give him a hug. The little thing smiled up at his formidable father. “Hi Da.” A quiet hello. 

I hadn’t even known he had a child until months after our “marriage”. The first time I saw his son, I had been warned not to touch a hair on the boy’s head. So I didn’t. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t talk to him. 

Naj scampered over to me and beamed. “Hi Miz Meiyu!” He looked up at me with huge, dark eyes, and my gaze skittered away. 

Those eyes. So innocent; trusting and earnest in a way that made me feel too big for my skin. 

He raised his voice. “Miz Meiyu! It’s me!” 

I knelt down and tried to look kind- if I didn’t, his father would break my bones. “Nihao, Xingan.” Hello sweetheart. 

He watched me, translating. 

“Ni jintian haoma?” I asked gently. 

He didn’t say anything. He just listened. Then he looked right at me. “Wo hen hao, Miz Meiyu. Wo cuoguo’le baba, he ni.” He spoke in clear, crisp Shu. 

My eyebrows shot up. I shook my head in disbelief. “Taihaole! Saints, you so smart. Learn words so fast!” I sat back, thoroughly impressed.

His little chest puffed out an absurd amount. “Xiexie.” 

I inclined my head graciously. “Bukeqi.” 

He giggled at my imperious tone, and I smiled ever so slightly. 

Jesper and Wylan stared in surprise. 

Kaz’s face was unreadable. 

I suddenly realized three pairs of eyes were examining me, so I got to my feet. 

“What did he say?” 

I looked up.

The Zemini man. Jesper. He seemed curious. 

“I asked him, ‘how are you?’ and he say, ‘I’m very good today. I missed Da. ” I left out the part where he said he missed me, too. “His Shu very good!” 

“He seems to like you,” Wylan chuckled. “He barely says a word to me.” 

“He’s all ears,” Jesper grinned, ruffling the boy’s hair. 

“All ears?” I was confused. 

“It means he listens more than he talks.” Brekker supplied. There was a layer of ice underneath his words- especially reserved for me. 

“Ah.” I nodded. “Yes. He always listens. He understands much.” 

We all stared at the boy. 

He smiled back at us with crinkled eyes. Out of the blue, he tugged my pant leg, wanting to ask a question. “Miz Meiyu?” 

I knelt down carefully. “Yes, Xingan?”

“What does this mean?” I leaned in to hear what he said, then inhaled sharply. 

His eyes were curious. “I heard you yelling it this morning. You sounded really mad.” 

Four pairs of eyes snapped to me. 

Brekker’s gaze could have frozen the sea. “What?” 

I opened my mouth to answer, but Naj beat me to it. 

“This morning, I heard her trip, and she got really mad,” he exclaimed happily. “And then she said…” He proceeded to rattle off a string of colorful obscenities that rivaled my late husband when he was in one of his rages- except with his squeaky little voice, it sounded totally absurd. 

I felt my eyes widen, and I cringed. “Saints have mercy…” 

His smile turned teasing. “You also said fuuc-“ 

I covered his mouth, torn between laughter and exasperation.

“Don’t touch my son.” Kaz spoke through his teeth. His hand was a taunt fist around his cane. I suspected he wanted nothing more than to use it on me. 

My hand fell away. 

The temperature dropped a few degrees. 

Naj’s silly grin faded, and now he looked scared. “But, I’m alright, Da. Mei-“ 

“Come here. Now.” 

His head went down and meekly he walked over to his father. His eyes traveled back to me, and I stood alone. 

Kaz’s glare turned its full force at me, the message all to clear: Get. Back. 

I took a deliberate step away, my usual empty mask falling over my face. I folded one hand over another to keep them from reaching out to Naj, who huddled next to his father, his face a picture of unhappiness. 

Wylan shifted, uncomfortable. “Kaz…” 

With one furious look, my husband rendered the red haired man dumb. 

Naj shuffled his feet, peering up at me from under his lashes.

I kept my eyes trained in front of me. Spine straight. Hands folded. Face empty. I was the epitome of Shu dignity in every way. 

Wylan’s eyes flashed to me, and I saw something like sympathy in them. 

“It’s time you were in bed.” Kaz rested his hand on his son’s shoulder, trying to steer him away from me. From the monstrosity. But Naj wouldn’t budge. 

“I’m sorry,” the boy whispered. All traces of laughter were wiped clean from his expression, leaving only sadness. Sadness and shame. 

I saw his eyes water, and my heart clenched painfully. He was only four years old. No child should not look so sad so early in life. “Buku, baobao. Buku.” I said as gently as I could. My fingers twitched as every fiber of my being screamed to go to him. Wrap my arms around him and see his smile again. But I was what I was, and that meant that I had to stay away. 

He looked so defeated. “I’m sorry I was bad,” he breathed in Shu. 

I knelt down, blocking out his father’s suspicious glower. “Oh, no, Xingan. No. You are not bad. Only good,” I said. “Zhi haode,” I repeated in Shu, stumbling awkwardly over the lump in my throat, “haoba?” 

“Hao,” he responded with a tiny smile. 

I stood up again, hands clasped in front of me. I peered down at his tousled head, all business. “Ting ni baba, Naj. Gen ta qu.” 

“Alright,” he whispered, somber as a mourner at a funeral. 

I let my face soften into a small smile. “Wa’an, xingan.”

“Wa’an,” he echoed. He looked up at Kaz and gently grabbed his hand in his. 

They left with quiet steps that seemed to echo in the void that gaped between us. 

The three of us stood stiffly, each doing their best to avoid the other’s gaze now that the “child-buffer” was gone. 

A Zemeni, a Kerch, and a Shu. 

It was like the start of a bad joke. 

Jesper rubbed his neck and sighed. “Kaz is…” 

“Protective?” Wylan offered weakly. 

“He’s a good man… deep… deep… down,” Jesper added. “He-“ 

I waved my hand impatiently, cutting him off. “A good man. A bad man. It matters not.” I looked at him sardonically. “Really, Brekker is not so bad.” 

“Kaz. Kaz Brekker. Dirtyhands.” Jesper spoke like I was hard of hearing. 

I rolled my eyes. I was tired of choosing not to speak when I had so much to say. “Listen. In my village, husband can be many things. Kind,” I held out my left hand, wrist up, “or cruel,” I took the other and mimed snapping the bone. 

Wylan’s fingers twitched. 

Jesper’s eyes were dark. 

I pulled my hands back. “Husband can do many things. Can be many things. Sometimes they are good. Sometimes bad. But good or bad, both can beat wife. Can give her to friend as gift. Can kill her, any time, if he wish. All it expected, because that is the way.” 

They stared at me, shocked. 

“You are surprised?” 

“Well, yes, to be honest,” Wylan looked uncomfortable. 

I arched a brow. “Why? Here is no different.” 

“It is. Kaz wouldn’t do that to you,” Jesper said quietly. “He’s many things, but he’s not like that.” 

“Is that so?” I asked sharply. I lifted my chin. “I was married at thirteen. My husband think he own me, same as Kaz. He was wrong.” 

Both of the men wore strained expressions. 

“You don’t know him,” Jesper interjected. 

“I do not know him. I only know I am a weapon to be used.” I rubbed my bad wrist. “Kerch understand… money, yes?”

They nodded, confused. 

“Kaz pays me money. Much money.” I smirked faintly. “And, I like money, because I like to live free. I like his son.” I paused. “But I don’t have to like him.” 

Jesper’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. “I guess the Kerch and the Shu have a lot in common when it comes to money.” 

I didn’t know how I felt about that. 

“You’ll get used to Kaz.” Wylan said softly. “But I think Naj really likes you. You seem very comfortable around him.” 

I catalogued his earnest face. His tentative smile. His shy encouragement. Encouraging, I decided. He was trying to be encouraging. Encouragement was one step away from kindness, and kindness? Well. When was kindness ever free? 

He turned pink at my piercing stare. “Do you have children?” he blurted out, clearly at a loss on what to say. 

I blinked. “What?” 

He turned dark red: like a freckly pomegranate underneath a mop of copper curls. “I-I’m sorry,” he stuttered, blushing down to his roots. “I didn’t mean…” He tailed off. 

“Yes.” 

Now it was his turn to be surprised. “Pardon?” 

“Yes. I did have children,” I said, quite honestly. 

Both of them waited in silence as I searched for words. 

When I spoke again, it was only to them. “I had to leave my them,” I murmured, “so they would not be killed.” I had no idea why I was telling him this. Maybe I wanted to have someone- anyone- see me as a human. 

“I’m so sorry,” he offered, but the lilt at the end made it sound uncertain. 

“Is that a question or a… con-doh-lence?” I said the word slowly, one syllable at a time. 

“Um…” He turned an even darker red. His hands fidgeted, eyes darting anywhere but me. He was embarrassed. Nervous. Scared? “I…” 

I tried to appear less severe. “Forgive me. I was only… joking?” I offered. 

“Oh.” 

I guess he didn’t expect the assassin to have a sense of humor. 

Jesper wound his arm around the man and winked at me, breaking the ice that had been forming. “Sorry about that. Wy here has a soft spot for kids. For the life of me I’ll never understand how Kaz beat us to it!” 

“Jesper!” Wylan hissed, turning an even darker red. 

I couldn’t hide my surprise. These two men were… “You are married? To… each other?” I tried not to sound so…shocked. 

Wylan mumbled something under his breath, but Jesper answered for both of them. “No. Not officially.”

A tiny snort escaped me before I could stifle it. “No marriage, but you live together? Men?” The words leapt from my mouth before I could stop them. 

“Yes, and yes.” Wylan’s blush had faded, and now he looked me dead in the eye. “We aren’t married because it’s not allowed. At least by law.” 

I felt heat rise up in my face. Why did I have to say such a thing so rudely? I sounded like my mother for Saint’s sake!

“Ach-who needs them?” Jesper scoffed. “We’ve been together for…” he tallied his fingers, “eight years!” 

“That shouldn’t have taken you that long to count!” Wylan groused good-naturally, even as leaned into the tall man’s hold. They smiled at each other, and I could see clear as day they were head-over-heels in love. They looked back at me, waiting for my reaction. 

“I…” Now it was my turn to be embarrassed. If they were in love- and it looked like real, honest love- the fact that they were two men didn’t seem so bad. After all: I had been married to a man of “good character”- and look what he did to me! I thought. I bowed my head, hands clasped. “I beg your pardon. I learned the old ways, but the old ways are…not always good.” I cursed my broken Kerch. “So I think: that is not important. Not important, because you are both…happy?” 

They smiled again, and it was my turn to blush. “Yes. We are,” Jesper said. 

Kaz and I may barely tolerate each other, but I found I liked his coworkers very much. Very much indeed. They seemed… real. 

I thought for a second. “I will tell you something. I learn this, and it is true.” I took a deep breath. “Marriage is only name,” I said softly. “You are not married, but you have love. You are happy. This is a good thing-very lucky.” I smiled back at them the first time. “The Shu not like ‘no marriage’,” I told them, “but they do love luck!” 

They both chuckled. 

I inclined my head. “Good night. Wylan. Jesper.” 

Jesper looked at me with new eyes. “Goodnight… Meiyu.” 

I began to turn away when Wylan piped up, “You’re welcome to visit us whenever you’d like. Naj would want to see-” 

“I cannot.” 

Wylan turned slightly pink. “Oh.” 

I tried to soften my words. “Kaz does not want me with son. I am too dangerous. Not good for the child.” I looked away from their uncomfortable faces. “I agree.” 

The atmosphere went back to awkward. 

“But thank you. I… would like to see him, too.” 

They smiled. 

With noiseless steps I made my way back to my room, lowering myself down on the bed with a small sigh. The mattress protested with a metallic creak. My cot was soft but narrow, close to the wall, with one bare table directly next to it. An old quilt was tucked in neatly around the mattress-worn but soft- crowned with a single, lumpy pillow stuffed with feathers. 

The light felt muted and dull again. 

A familiar shadow fell across the floor, and I leveled my gaze to meet his. The iciness in it made some deep, hidden part of me shiver. It was like staring into the eyes of a shark. “He speaks more Shu than Kerch.” There was definite warning in it. 

A spark of anger burned in my stomach. I lifted a shoulder. 

“How much have you talked with him?” Dangerous territory. 

Thick, ugly resentment rolled through me, and I stubbornly refused to answer. 

He stepped closer. “If you touch my son again, I will cut off your hand.” 

I rose to my feet. “Try,” I said calmly, “and see what happens.” 

We stared each other down, neither one surrendering an inch. 

“How many times have you spoken to him?” 

“Only a few times.”

“Did you approach him to speak?”

“No. He comes to me.” 

“You’ve told him I don’t want you near him.” 

“Yes. Many times.” 

“And he still talks to you.” 

“Yes.” 

His eyes were like chips of ice. “Did you ever touch him like that before?” 

“No.” 

“You understand what will happen to you if you touch him again.” 

I felt like I was being interrogated, because really, I was. “Yes.” 

“Good.” 

I looked away. “He is a child. I would never-” 

“Trusting something like you can get you killed. Or worse.” Not someone something. Thing. Animal. Monster. He regarded me like they all did: like I was a rabid wolf pretending to be a housedog. 

I felt shame douse the anger. Of course he saw me as that, I thought bitterly. And why wouldn’t he? I was the Blood Dragon. Death was my oldest companion. “I not hurt children,” I whispered vehemently. “I not kill babies,” I spat. 

“No. I doubt even you would stoop to that level.” 

I scowled. 

“You had children, didn’t you? Girls.” He watched with satisfaction as the blood drained from my face. I hadn’t realized how much he knew about me. How that knowledge cut deeper than any slap or beating I had ever received. “What happened to them?” The poisoned barb was as subtle as a gunshot. A barely disguised taunt. 

I felt the white-hot anger rise up in me, tearing my insides with sharp claws. “I don’t have to tell you anything.” 

He didn’t look away. “I had no choice in you meeting my son.” 

That much was true. 

“When did you lose them?” There was less poison behind this question, at least. 

My anger turned to resignation. He already knew I had children, so there was nothing to lose. “Seven years ago.” My mouth thinned. “Babies. Probably dead now. Like others.” Clipped words. Sterile. After all, there was no need to elaborate on what we already knew. 

“What does buku baobao mean?” His pronunciation was flat, and the cadence was a bit off, but I was faintly impressed: most people’s attempts at speaking Shu sounded like gibberish. 

I ran my finger over the iron band of my ring. “It means, ‘Don’t cry baby.’ I say it to your son because he is sad. I say it to him, like I say it to them.” I thought for a second. It didn’t sound right. “Said. Like I said it-.” 

“You don’t have to correct yourself. I know what you mean,” he said with thinly-veiled irritation. 

“No. I do. I want to speak good Kerch.” I looked at him hard. “I am smart, but I can’t speak Kerch fluently. The House mothers only speak common Shu. People think I am stupid, because I speak Kerch badly. They speak very loud or very slow. Like I am a child. Like I can’t hear.” I scoffed. “Shouting not help me understand better. I learn to understand Kerch in three months. Speak in four. ” 

“You learned to speak and understand conversational Kerch in four months... by listening?” I sensed the faintest glimmer of disbelief in his voice.

“Yes. I am good at languages. I can speak An’Lin Shu, common Shu, and Ravkan fluently. I can now speak Kerch much better. I can also understand and speak three other Shu Han languages: Shi’An Shu, Mao’Shu, Yueshang’Shu.” I ticked them off, one by one, on my fingers. “These good to know. Shu merchants often use these to confuse you Kerch.” 

“I’ve noticed,” Kaz said sarcastically. “The few Shu merches who come here are slipperier than an eel and half as trustworthy. Most of them wouldn’t hesitate to trade a Grisha for a good crate of opium.” 

It was good Kaz knew this truth. Most Kerch- especially the merches here in Ketterdam- always thought themselves so crafty. So much more advanced than us ‘foreigners’ fresh off the boat. They never took time to see how alarmingly skilled Shu merchants were at duping people. Even us Shu disliked the merchants! A few were honest men, but most seemed so… greedy. They spun words and wove languages together like spider webs. Always tricking. Always looking for ways to cheat people out of another coin. 

“They are not to be trusted,” I agreed. “Or underestimated.” 

“And you know exactly what they’re saying?” 

“Most. Today, I hear Shu man talk. Working with one of your Dregs. You pay him money for work. He buys opium here, because here it is cheaper. Dregs sells opium to Shu man. Shu man sells it again in his country. Triple price. He gives Dregs some of profit, keeps the rest. Very good trade.” 

Kaz stroked the head of his cane. “So that’s where he was getting the money…” he murmured under his breath.

I had one more card to play. My ace. “Dregs use this money at brothel every week. Goes to brothel. Buys this one Suli girl.”

Kaz went dangerously still. His eyes shifted to mine, and it was like looking into a gun’s barrel before it shot you.

I sat calmly, waiting to see how he would respond. 

He got to his feet. Slowly. “If you’re lying to me-“

I rose to mine, not to be intimidated. “I do not lie. You knew this man. You guess what he was doing, but you do not know. Not for sure. I heard them speak. I saw it. It is true.” I held out a tiny swath of brilliant blue fabric to him, ripped. A costume. Cheap, faux silk. Perfumed. “This is what I found.” 

He took it from me, examining it closely. “Where?” 

“His body.” 

His eyes flicked up. 

“I killed him. You said ‘kill any who go to brothel’. So I did.” 

“You could be lying.” 

“I could. But why would I? What would I get?” I leaned back, arms crossed. “Three years I spent in the House. Very well I know these people. So believe me. Don’t believe me. But I speak true.” 

He did, but it didn’t look like he was going to admit it. “You’re a lot smarter than you look, Cursemaker. Or sound.” I heard the mocking ring in his tone. 

“Yes. I am.” I said bluntly. “If you try to speak only Shu, you also sound stupid!” 

He didn’t look angry or even bothered by my snide words. Rather, there was something akin to…humor?... in his dark eyes; at least, if humor was sharp as shrapnel. “Fair enough, Cursemaker.” 

I held up a finger. “Cursemaker. That doesn’t sound right.” 

“Why?” A challenge. “It’s what you are.”

“I am not a thing, Brekker. My name is not what I am. Or what I do,” I said sharply. “The beginning of wisdom is to call things-“

“-By their proper name,’” he quoted. In crisp Shu Han, no less. 

“Yes.” I would be lying if I said I wasn’t surprised. Just for the fun of it, I switched to my village’s dialect so he wouldn’t understand me. “It would do you well to remember I am I am not a cur on a chain for you to set lose when you wish, Kaz Brekker. Don’t you know who I am? I can destroy you in a hundred different ways! Honestly I don’t know how your son got to be so sweet- especially since he worships you. Must be from his mother. I find it hard to believe you fell in love with an actual human being-and had a child for Saint’s sake! The general consensus seems to be that you’re some sort of demon from hell that sold his soul for Kruge. Ridiculous, yet… not wholly unbelievable.” I sped on, loving the freedom of speaking my native tongue. “Saints it feels good to talk like this...Kerch is like an lame horse: so slow- it’s almost like it drags its feet! And these people. They take ten seconds to say something that should only be two! Inefficient.” 

“So this is what you really sound like.” Brekker tilted his head. “I heard my name.” He sat in a small chair and folded his hands over his cane. “What did you say?” 

I kept my face smooth. “I’m not your translator. Learn Shu yourself,” I said, my insolent words blunted with the slightest tinge of humor. 

His eyebrows went up. For a split second he almost seemed amused, but then a shadow darkened his face. He looked almost angry with himself. With a sharp creak he pushed himself up with the cane and stalked away. “Don’t touch my son, or you’ll regret it. You’re a Cursemaker, which means you’re a weapon. And all weapons, even the best, can be replaced.” With a flash of dark coat he turned the corner, leaving me. 

I felt like I had been dunked in icy water. You’re a weapon. I swallowed hard. I was not Naj’s mother. I knew it. I accepted it. Then why did the words carve into me like knives? I cursed my weakness. I had let my guard down. I acted like Kaz Brekker and I could hold a normal conversation like… friends. Friends! Saints was I naive. You’d think I’d learn by this point that friends didn’t exist for people like me. 

It seemed that after all these years, I was still a fool who hoped for acceptance. For kindness. 

How quickly that hope died.

….

I will tell you about myself, so you might know what I came from. 

My father traveled for his work, so he learned to speak many dialects of Shu. He taught me a few. The rest I’ve figured out on my own. I come from a long and ancient line of Cursemakers, so it surprised me when I was allowed- encouraged, even- to learn as many languages as I could by my Mother. It was training for a life I had no idea I would lead. 

Dancing, language, and cooking. For many years, these three things were the only skills I possessed and honed: dancing to continue my grandmother’s legacy, language to speak to my people, and cooking for marriage. 

Parents, grandparents, neighbors and elders- these were our teachers. There was no school for girls, so I learned whatever I could from whoever would teach me. 

When I asked my father why, he just said, “Do you need to read to bear sons?” 

No, I thought. But I should like to read, all the same. 

When I asked my mother why, she said, “A man does not want a learned wife. He wants a woman of honor who runs a quiet home, who bears many sons and works alongside him without complaint. That is what you must learn, Meiyu. To live an honorable life, you must follow the Way, and be an obedient daughter.” 

And so I did. 

I learned to keep a home and wring food from what little could be found. I learned to sell my wares at the market and dance for pennies and joy. I learned to honor my husband and bear his children. But most of all, I learned how to swallow my misery in silence, because that was the Way. The woman’s way. 

I learned many things, but deep in my heart, I fervently, desperately, wanted to read. By my thirteenth year I was fluent in four languages, and yet, I would stare at the dirt marred by my brother’s chicken-scratch writing and feel sour jealousy twist my insides, because I could not make sense of it. 

It was the ache for something just out of your reach. 

A handful of waterless tears came and went, but they were wiped away, and forgotten. 

Still, even if I couldn’t read or write, the Saints gifted me with an excellent memory. In life, I honed this memory to a razor sharp point, because without it, I could be cheated, taken advantage of, deceived with words- and that was unacceptable. I trained myself to “read” documents without actually reading, using old story-telling tricks. (Much of our history was passed down though words alone, so this was not new to me.) I was very good at it- and for a time, I remained undetected in my ignorance.

Of course, Kaz Brekker was the first person to notice. 

Somehow, he picked up the little hints that revealed my illiteracy. The aimless way my eyes skimmed the page here; one too many questions asked there. Even the slightest delay in repeating back random sections of texts gave me away. 

When Kaz and I were writing up our contract, I noticed him stare at me much too closely, eyes drilling, as I repeated sections verbatim, voice flat. I kept my eyes riveted on a mass of scrawls, refusing to look at him, because somehow he knew- he knew- I was a fraud. His piercing, knife-twistingly-sharp stare made my skin crawl, and I needed to do something- anything- to make him stop looking at me. 

“What?” I finally inquired, voice taunt with anger. 

“You can’t read any of this, can you?” he asked, calm as ever, paper in hands. It wasn’t as much a question as a fact. “You never learned.” 

My stomach bottomed out, and it was like clinging onto the edge of a cliff by my fingernails. “Yes, I can!” I lied, taking the papers back from him. “I know what this says. I understand.” My voice, though steady, was a touch too defensive, and I clamped my mouth shut. 

“You remember it. All of it, actually. But that’s not the same as being able to read it.” He tapped the papers with his cane, each tap making my stomach drop even more. “Some of these articles are pure gibberish. I couldn’t read them if I tried, yet you’ve passed right over it without blinking an eye.” 

Saints, Meiyu, you fell right into his trap, I thought. I held firm, clinging onto the last shred of dignity. “I did not see that,” I insisted dogmatically, “Must have missed it!” 

He raised an eyebrow, pushing over the paper with a single pen. “Alright. Maybe you didn’t see it. Anyways, it’s not important, so you can sign your name and let’s be done with this once and for all.” 

I scoffed. 

“What’s the problem?” he challenged, a loaded question. “You were going to before.” 

“We need more time.” It sounded feeble even to me. 

“I think we’ve talked about this enough. All we need to do is sign, correct?” 

Jaw clenched, I told myself to nod, because what else could I do? “Fine.” 

He pushed the pen closer to me, and I forced myself to pick it up. 

I looked down. A single long line. Some spidery chain of lines that must be his name. A blank spot for mine. I rested the pen on the line. 

The black ink began to dribble out of it. 

“You can sign in Shu or Kerch,” he told me. “Both will be recognized.” 

I didn’t look at him. A high-pitched buzzing began to fill my ears. My mouth was dry as bone. Saints. He knew I was faking. There was no denying it now: I was trapped. Cornered in every sense of the word. If I signed now, who knows what I could be agreeing to? 

And if I didn’t, what would I say? I could have tried to make excused that I couldn’t write in Kerch- and perhaps would have been believable- but I had no way of writing my name in Shu, either. He had given me the option of writing in both, so I couldn’t blame it on him. I could fake my signature, but I didn’t know how my name translated! I might as well announce to all of Ketterdam that the Blood Dragon, most feared Cursemaker of her time, was an illiterate woman who came from a middle-of-nowhere village in the backcountry of the Shu mountains. 

My own name had become my downfall. 

I set the pen down, slowly and deliberately. “I cannot sign.” My voice was pitched so low I barely heard the words leave my lips. 

“Because you can’t read it,” he finished quietly. No judgment, strangely. Just fact. 

I finally met his gaze, equally parts furious and subdued. I hated him. Saints I hated him. “Yes.” My voice came out as a thin whisper. “I cannot read or write. Not in Kerch. Not in Shu. Women not taught. Not allowed.” I waited for him to mock me- hold it above my head- use it to his advantage.

He folded the papers up and put them on the desk. “I have a friends who speaks fluent Shu-“

“-Not Kuwei,” I growled. (That boy drove me half mad!)

“She can help translate what the contract says.” Then he turned back. “Also, that whole thing about some of the contract being gibberish was a lie. I just wanted to see what you’d do.” 

My mouth opened, and closed. 

“I’m afraid put the nails in your own coffin there,” he informed me. 

I employed all my lessons on proper Shu dignity and restraint, because in that moment, I had become the fool, and I was nothing short of pissed. No, more than that. I was outraged. I was furious. I was so mad I could spit. And in my head I spewed every obscenity, every curse, every dirty name and crude comparison I could at Kaz fucking Brekker, because nothing would make me happier than the chance to wrap his stupid cane ‘round his stupid head like a wreath. 

But inevitably what I decided on was, “I will not be toyed with.” Short, sweet, and to the point. 

He saw how angry I was, and had enough sense not to goad me further. “You don’t trust me, and you shouldn’t, but if we’re going to work together, you’ll need to sign the papers. However, the fact that you can’t read or write in either Shu or Kerch poses a problem when it comes to a written contract. So,” he met my gaze, “do you want help translating, or do you want to take the chance of signing a contract you aren’t capable of reading?” 

I bristled slightly, but he was right. “I will wait for translator, thank you,” I responded. I dug my talons deep into the wooden chair and imagined it was his face. 

It gave me a blissful sense of peace. 

“Good. We pick this up once she returns,” he answered briskly, as if he hadn’t just flayed my pride to hang my failure out for the whole world to see. He put the papers back in a drawer, closing it with a snap. 

“How long have you known?” I asked dully. 

“Since the moment you first looked at the paper.” 

I let out something like a garbled laugh. Five seconds. All in all, it took him less than five seconds to see through my charade. Years of work, or practice, reduced to ash in less than five fucking seconds. I stewed, utterly humiliated. 

“I’m not surprised no one has ever noticed you can’t read. You’re very good at hiding it. Extremely good, actually.” 

I glared at him shrewdly. “Yet you saw.” 

“I’m much more observant than most.” 

“’I’m much more observant than most!’” I mocked in Shu, “I’m much more observant than most!” I made a disgusted sound. “Tcha! Of course he has to be the one who finds out. Him, of all people!” I huffed. “Fucking asshole,” I muttered sullenly in Shu, “Damned bastard. I better be paid well for this.” 

He smirked at me. “I also understand more Shu than you think.” 

I stormed out of the room. 

If I stayed, I’m pretty sure I would have killed him with my bare hands. 

That evening I got to meet Nina, and the contract was translated, reviewed, and signed with the efficiency of clockwork. That evening, I married Kaz Brekker, and became the newest addition to the Dregs. 

That evening I received a hint of kindness from Dirtyhands. 

I still don’t know what to do with it.


	6. Monsters

(6 months later)

I heard Kaz fighting with the men downstairs, shots going off, glass shattering. He threw himself up the stairs towards us, the snap of bones and the screams of pain in his wake. “You know what to do.” Ours eyes met and I nodded once. 

I forced Naj into the corner. He was shaking so hard he couldn’t make a sound. 

We were like fish in a barrel, but what the men didn’t know is that I was no minnow. 

I was a shark. 

He wailed in fear, but I thrust my hand back and held onto his, fiercely. I held on and then I let go. I crouched down to the floor, hissing, as I placed myself in front of Naj. I didn’t want him to have to see me like this, so I cast a cloud of darkness around him, one that would cut off all sound and sight. I stepped forward throwing my head back to shriek, the pitch ear shattering. The men fell to their knees, hands clamped over their ears as they yelled. Pure horror and revulsion spread across their faces as I transformed. 

Even Kaz looked unnerved. 

My bones cracked and reshaped themselves. Vertebrae jutted out from my back, making my form hunch over, distorted and inhuman. My hair raised on its own, rattling hollowing as I spat and hissed like a viper. Fingers extended into insect like-talons. Black liquid dripped from my eyes, and my vision turned dark with power. 

I was the Blood Dragon, and these men would fall before me like wheat to a scythe. 

I rose to my full height and clenched my fist. 

Golden mist shot through the air, wrapping around each and every man; holding them fast. With a vicious snap I yanked them into the air and stepped closer, my head twitching jerkily as I gazed at they who had tried to kill Naj Brekker. The steady drip of black fell from my eyes like tears, and I arched my neck up to look at them face to face, snarling like the beast that I was. The men were paralyzed, and they shrank back from what they saw. 

I knew what I was, and I reveled in their fear. I walked slowly up to one man- weak looking-and wrapped my claws around his neck, tracing one talon down his jugular. “Why are you here?” 

He shook his head violently, terrified, babbling nonsense like a child. 

“Shhh,” I pressed a claw to his lips. I cocked my head and caressed his face. “Don’t be afraid. Just. Tell. Me.” 

“Please,” he whispered. “Please. Let me live. My children-” 

I backhanded him so hard my own hand wet numb, yanking him towards me so we shared the same breath. “Do not speak to me of your precious children,” I spat. “Why are you here?” 

His face morphed into something braver and far more stupid. “Whore,” he hissed. 

I raised my eyebrows. 

“I wouldn’t waste good copper on a slut like you.” 

“Would you like a kiss, then?” Before he could do much more than open his mouth to yell, I cupped the back of his neck and pulled him to me, sealing my lips over his in a deadly kiss. 

All it took was one breath: one breath in, and every drop of water in his body out. 

The mist poured from his gaping mouth, and when I stepped back, a living mummy gasped in front of me: its blackened skin clinging to its bones, its shriveled, sagging eyes rolling madly. 

“I am no whore,” I told him. In one brutal twist I snapped his neck and threw his body to the ground where he lay like a broken toy: bent the wrong way. 

Kaz looked on, cold as ice. This was my territory now. 

I moved onto the next man. The leader. 

He shook so hard his teeth rattled he shook so hard, but he met my gaze, defiant still. 

“Why are you here?” 

He spat at my feet, voice guttural as he cursed me. Called down every god, every saint, on my head. He swore that I would burn in hellfire like the demon I was. He told me that I’d never have a place here or in the next world. That my very soul would have neither peace or rest from here to eternity. Abomination, he named me. Whore who would lay with crows. 

I looked down at the spittle and back up at him. “Call me that again,” I asked. 

Three times did he call me this. 

Gently, I reached out a hand and caressed his shoulder, sliding down his arm. My fingers wrapped around it, and in one brutal twist, I broke the bone with a sickening crack. 

And again. 

And again. 

Three jagged breaks for three filthy words. Shards of white bones punctured through ruined red flesh. Blood came drip, drip, driping down, spattering across the floor. 

His shrieks reverberated in the small room, and I stepped back to admire my work. “Your turn,” I said to Kaz. 

He limped towards him and began to do what Dirtyhands did best. 

My magic muffled everything. Even those screams. 

We both stepped back with distaste as the man turned his head and wretched across the floor. The smell was…blood and vomit and fear. Like Before. Like the Crossing. A wave of nausea swept through me, but it passed. It always did. 

I shook blood off my talon, scanning his body and his crew. 

Gun. Wicked looking knives. 

Chloroform. Rags. 

It was what I expected. 

But then I saw butchering knives to dissect bodies: take them apart piece by piece. Vials to collect blood. Thick rope. Sedative. An iron muzzle. 

And something else, just barely peeking from his shirt. 

I squinted at it. 

Kaz followed my gaze. 

A Cursemaker talon, hung by a cord. 

My eyes rose to the leader, and he turned white as a sheet. 

Oh yes. I knew exactly what they were looking for. 

Without warning I ripped the necklace off with a rabid snarl, purposefully scoring his throat with my sharp claws. Pacing, I turned the talon in my hands. It looked very old. Set in gold as an amplifier. It seemed familiar. 

Very, very familiar. 

I glanced at his deathly pale face again, calculating. He was Shu. Somehow, he knew exactly what I was. Most people thought Cursemakers were an old fairy tale, designed to terrify little children. Yet here he was: armed to take one down. How? 

Kaz observed me, guarded. 

I held the talon up to the light. The talon shone black, faded from the years. The way it was set reminded me of a family heirloom, passed down from father to son. It had to be old. Very old, and very valuable. It was slender- from a female. Dull, so she hadn’t grown up fighting. 

I ran my fingers over it, stroking it, bending down to listen. Gentle, lilting notes rose up, caressing my ear. The magic whispered to me softly, weak; it lacked the sharply honed quality of my own. The Cursemaker whose talon I held must have barely ever used her magic. She probably never had to. What’s more: there was something so familiar about its voice. 

I looked at it closely. 

A Shu Cursemaker. 

Female. 

Who died a long time ago. 

Who never barely used magic. 

Whose magic sang to me like an old friend. 

Like family. 

A dark thought bloomed. 

I looked down, feeling sick. 

The man began to shake his head furiously, petrified, and his crew writhed and thrashed along with him. 

Murderer, the dragon howled. Killer. My vision turned red with bloodlust as the mist forced their jaws open and thrust into their throats, wriggling into them like snakes. Their screams were muffled, and they writhed in place, horrified. 

My power throbbed brighter and brighter inside them, igniting like hot coals. 

There would be no elaborate curses tonight. Just swift, painful death. 

Their howls of agony reverberated as they began to spontaneously combust. A smell of burning meat filled the air, and Kaz looked on like with vengeance in his eyes. They shrieked and screamed as their skin blackened and crackled, until they hung suspended, limp as rag dolls. Within seconds even the bodies crumbled to ash, which fell to the floor with muted thuds. 

I held my hands out and the mist sped back to me, faster and faster until the magic collapsed into itself with a metallic snap. 

A puff of air was all that remained. 

I breathed in that pure, unadulterated power thrumming through my veins. It was intoxicating. Dangerous. But it felt like… relief. Release. Headier than any drug. Cursing made me feel like my whole essence was humming. It was like a dam that had broken, and the powers inside me roared out like a mighty river: cruelly exultant in it’s destructives. 

My eyes faded back to what they once were, and I watched as my bones retracted back into their normal place. It was like coming down from a sprint: my body wound down, one heartbeat at a time. 

I crumpled into myself, human once more. 

The talon had fallen from my hands, and now lay on the ground, glittering ominously. 

I reached out and picked it up. I listened as the magic sang to me one last time; I listened to my great-grandmother’s song, and I said goodbye. My fist clenched around it and it disintegrated, blowing away to dust, which I let fall away. 

All was silent. 

Kaz’s eyes were riveted on the many piles of ash scattered throughout the room. He shifted over slightly, charting the ash that trailed down the stairs, around the house. He saw each pile, counting silently. 

“I killed all that I knew of,” I confirmed. “All that I saw.” I rose to my feet, a lioness victorious after the kill. “They will never bother us again. 

He looked at me. There was respect. Satisfaction. And the tiniest, faintest glimmer of something worse. Because now, I wasn’t the stammering, stuttering Shu woman to be mocked and ordered around. Now, I was the Blood Dragon, and this was just a taste of what I could do. 

“Good.” His voice was gravel and stone. 

I didn’t want Naj to see what was left of the men- so I summoned away the ash. 

All that was left of them was the lingering smell of burned hair. 

I lowered the dark cloud, and Naj stumbled out from it, and he launched himself into Kaz’s arms with a tiny whimper. “Naj.” He gently held him away from me and knelt down, his voice stern. My heart broke. The little boy’s sobs were more like heaving gasps. Hyperventilation. He was beyond the point of panic. “Look at me.” 

He stared at him, shuddering. “Da…” 

“You’re alight. Do you hear me? You’re alright.” 

Naj nodded, hiccupping with his gasps. His eyes widened in terror at something behind him. He inhaled sharply. 

We whirled around just as lone assassin- shimmering with enchantment- materialized from around the corner. 

I didn’t even think. 

I couldn’t. 

I shoved Naj behind me as shots rang through the air. 

Silence. 

And assassin fell to the floor, his brains splattered across the ground in a bloody grey mass swimming in dark blood. 

I jerked Naj around as fast as I could before he could get a full glimpse of the corpse.

Kaz stood panting, his eyes insane and wild. 

Naj’s eyes were blank with shock. His little hands were clenched so hard to my shirt they were turning white from the effort. He couldn’t seem to let go. 

I stared down at the grey matter covered in slick blood, the shattered skull. I was used to it, but I had a little boy with me, and he was so young. “Don’t look, Naj.” My voice was harsh and soft at the same time, and I ripped a piece of my shirt off and tied it around his eyes. “Go to your Da and don’t you dare look.” 

He nodded robotically. 

I pried him away from me as delicately as I could and pushed him towards his father, swaying on my feet, strung tight with tension. My hands rose and I cleaned up the mess as quickly as I could. 

He was crying silently as he walked over to Kaz. His gait was stiff and lifeless. Survival first. Pain second. 

This time Kaz immediately dropped his cane and wrapped his arms around his boy. Relief rolled off him in waves as Naj sobbed. He didn’t say a word as his son cried. It was heartbreaking to watch. Those young, sad eyes lifted to mine, trailing down to take in all the rest of me. They saw the coppery blood coating my hands. Saw the stink of death that surrounded me. I clasped those hands together, stepping away from him. 

I needed to get as far away from him as I could; I needed to leave this little boy and his father and this whole forsaken town, because I was an abomination. An abomination had no place in the life of a child. 

Saints, why had I even married this man, knowing what I was?

My shirt fell wet. 

The adrenalin had began draining away, and an odd… ache…began to blossom in my stomach. I ignored it. All my attention was on this boy who reached out to me, begging me for help. I couldn’t hear the words, but I saw my name. 

My name, spoken in a whisper. 

“Xingan.” I tried to step towards him and wobbled. “What is it?” 

He wasn’t reaching, I realized. 

He was pointing. 

Kaz looked back at me, and his eyes widened as they slid down my form. “Shit,” he swore, lurching to his feet. 

I followed his gaze down. 

Blood. 

A lot of it. Dark black red. Spreading so fast. 

I looked up, confused. 

I was shot?

Kaz crossed the room in seconds as my legs folded underneath me, lowering me to the ground. I didn’t think he’d do it so carefully. Probably because he wants to make sure his secret weapon isn’t damaged beyond prepare, I thought sardonically. 

Pain blossomed like a flower. A bullet was buried in my organs, and I hadn’t even noticed it. How could I not have felt it? I couldn’t believe I hadn’t felt it. My breath hitched. It gurgled out of me, wet and sloppy. Blood trickled down my chin, and it was coppery and hot and thick. 

I realized with a start that I was most likely going to die. 

Naj began screaming. Not crying. Screaming. The wailing split the silence like a gunshot, and time seemed to speed up. No. No. No. He sounded frantic. His anguished sobs made me want to cry. He was only four. Still a baby, really. 

What a cruel world we lived in, I thought. He shouldn’t have to see this. He shouldn’t have had to see any of this. My vision began flickering. 

Kaz turned to him, pointing to the door, his face hard. I saw his mouth move. Nina? The Heartrender? 

Naj bolted, running as fast as he could. 

I wish I could have made sure he was alright. I didn’t want him to be scared. But…I was…. 

…So…so sleepy….

I heard Kaz cursing as if from a distance. 

“Shenme?” I blinked, disorientated. “Nishuoshenme? Wo…ting…budongni…” My tongue felt thick and clumsy in my mouth. 

His voice was carefully controlled. 

I cocked my head, trying to translate. Stay awake? But I was awake. 

Wasn’t I?

…

When I opened my eyes again I was lying on a table, and now the pain tore through me, making me moan. My head pounded. I couldn’t see straight. 

A woman leaned over me- Nina?- and tried to pressed me back. She shouted something to Kaz- I didn’t recognize her words- and he bit back and answer without looking her way. 

A violent ripping noise sawed through the air as Kaz tore another strip of fabric to staunch the wound. Awful memories flooded through me, stacking on top of each other, and my stomach rolled. I hated that noise. Clothing ripping. I hated it so much, and I began to feel a slow, creeping panic rise up in me. He pressed the ball of fabric low on my pelvis to hold in the blood. 

I flinched away from the feeling of his gloves on my bare skin. I felt so cold. Every limb was full of aching, burning lead. My head flopped one way, and the other. 

“Fever,” Nina muttered. “Infection. She’s boiling with it.” 

I looked over Kaz and Nina’s shoulder’s, and felt my blood run cold. 

He stood behind them, cane in hand. 

“You’re dead,” I whispered in Shu. “You’re dead, and you can’t hurt me anymore.” 

He smiled, and I trembled as he walked around them, reaching towards my face. “I’m not dead,” he said, “I’m… right… here.” 

He leaned down to kiss me, and I very nearly lost my mind. 

“DON’T YOU TOUCH ME!” I screamed in Kerch. “LEAVE ME ALONE!” 

Nina and Kaz flattened me to the table and I thrashed, throwing everything I had to get them off me, because he was touching me, kissing me, and I couldn’t do it again. 

“She’s tearing her organs apart!” Kaz growled. “Knock her out, NOW!” 

Nina shoved a sweet-smelling rag into my face, dripping with some liquid, and the world blurred and went black. 

And then…

And then….

I snapped back to reality, salty tears blurring my vision. 

Too much. 

I didn’t want to be touched like that. 

Never again. 

I didn’t know what was happening. What was real, and what was nightmare. My mind stumbled blindly through dark halls, frantic. I was hurled back to the Crossing, the dark, the smell. I wanted to scream. But they always liked it when we did, so I held it in until I wanted to burst. My eyes rolled with panic. 

I came back to myself with a thud as I felt the bullet shift inside, scraping against bone. Agony rolled through me, and I bared my teeth like a cornered animal, every cell in my body howling, raging for me to shove them off me and become my full-blooded Cursemaker form. I felt my eyes begin to fill with magic, and mist seeped from my fingers like ribbons, but its light was sickly yellow, not gold. It coiled up feeble and pale, and dissolved into the air with a sigh. The power drained from me as quickly as my blood did, and I stopped fighting. 

I yelled as the Heartrender began to draw the bullet out, reeling from the pain.

Kaz barked at me to be still, and he held me down with all his weight, eyes focused. 

My vision flickered out for a second. 

The bullet slid out with a dull clink. 

Hot blood bubbled out as I heaved bloody vomit over the side, spent. 

And the blood kept coming. 

Why was there always so much blood?

Kaz glanced at me, grim. 

A numbness began to creep through me, and it was so unlike what I expected…Almost…fuzzy? I didn’t mind it, though- it was like…like… sinking into a bed of clouds. Everything was so soft and fluffy and muted. My heart finally began to falter- stutter- and…slow. And it was nice, in a way, to have the quiet thrum fill my head with silence. 

The woman leaned over me, hands coated in sticky red. She saw me going under again and yelled something to Kaz. 

My eyelids started to fall, and it annoyed me when he made me meet his gaze-again. 

His eyes were like coffee, I thought suddenly: dark brown at first, then amber. I didn’t think they’d be so normal. Or so sad. 

When his mouth moved, I felt myself frown slightly. 

Was that it? 

Ei- I couldn’t hear him anymore. 

Well, I said to myself, if this is death, it isn’t so bad. I wasn’t terribly afraid of dying, you see, and there were far worse ways to go. Really, it could be quite nice to just…Fade… …And… 

…Be free… 

(Kaz) 

Her head slid to the side, eyes glazed and falling shut. 

“Saints,” Nina hissed. “The bullet went right through her and lodged in her hip. It’s a miracle she didn’t bleed out before I got here.” She sat back, winded. “I don’t think she has the same anatomy as we do, either: her heart is barely beating- but she seems… stable. Almost like a self-induced coma. I don’t understand it.” 

“She’s not human.” 

Nina’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“She’s a full-blooded Cursemaker.” 

She glanced back at Meiyu’s still form with something akin to fear. “Saints. They still exist? I thought they were hunted to extinction years ago.” 

“Not all. She must be one of the last. And now she works for me.” I shifted my weight onto my cane. “They came here for me and Naj-but I think they wanted her alive. She’s priceless.” 

She gaped at me in shock. “Kaz. What are you thinking?- employing her as a Crow. They… they’re so dangerous. The things they can do…” 

“Which is why I wanted her working with me, not against me.” 

Nina started to wipe away the gore on Meiyu’s hip, and she leapt back with an oath. 

Meiyu’s eyes snapped open, and they were pure black. A ferocious, jagged snarl erupted from her, and she bared teeth sharper than a drawer full of knives, forcing herself upright with shaking arms before collapsing back with a low moan. 

“Ghezen,” Nina gasped, half in awe, half in fear. 

The Cursemaker’s eyelids fluttered and slid shut again, rumbling in warning. 

We watched as she shifted, curling into herself protectively, the snarl fading to a moan. She shivered, arms wrapped around her stomach. Shielding herself. 

Brutal whip marks licked over her shoulder; bracelets of silvery scars encircled her wrists and marked her as a slave. The only cut that seemed to be there on purpose was the long, neat slash that rose from the inside of her arm- a tribal custom, most likely, since ceremonial scarring like this was seen as barbaric to most of the Shu Han. 

Nina looked troubled. Her lips pressed together, eyes drawn to crooked wrist tucked securely to her body. “Was she married? Before?” 

“Yes.” I polished the spots of blood of the head of my cane. “He probably was her first kill.” 

She snorted. “Then that explains a lot. Her wrist looks worse than your leg, and whoever she saw made her go completely out of her mind.” Nina looked at her, pensive. “What kind of person would scare someone like her?” She murmured, almost to herself. 

“The worst kind,” I said grimly. 

Nina gave her an once-over and sighed, wiping her hands. “She’s sleeping now. I think with rest she’ll recover- the healing process is already underway. It looks like she had bleaching done to her, but she seems fine now.” 

“She did,” I murmured. “She’s part Kerch, but she was too dark to be a Porcelain.” 

“Saints.” Her expression darkened. “She would have paled naturally if they just kept her inside.” 

“They obviously wanted to speed up the process.” 

Nina shook her head in disgust. “Bastards.” Her mouth turned down into an uncompromising line. “It sounded like those men were prepared to sedate her like an animal.” 

“For good reason. Her breed is vicious, but controllable.” 

“Breed?” Her brows furrowed. “Kaz. She’s not a beast,” she said slowly.

“Did I say she was?” 

“Not outright, but it sounds like you’re talking about a dog.” Her voice was full of reproach. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but… she seems very gentle around Naj. And I don’t think she’s evil.” 

I scoffed. “Trusting her is insane as it is stupid, Nina.” I looked down at her still form. “I’ve never seen anything like what happened at the House. ” 

Nina looked at Meiyu, solemn, with a healthy amount of caution. Then she looked at me, and her face was hard. “Can you honestly tell me they didn’t deserve what they got?” 

I met her gaze, calm. “She’s dangerous, Nina. The only reason I married her is for her power. But if she turns on me, I won’t hesitate to put her down.” 

“That’s awful, Kaz,” Nina snapped. If I was anyone but myself, I might have felt shame in meeting her eyes. “Ghezen-she just took a bullet for your son! I don’t think that’s a sign of a monster.” 

“I don’t understand.” 

Nina inhaled sharply, barely covering her shock. 

Meiyu was awake, and had been, for a long while. Her hand pressed against her abdomen, and she seemed groggy but lucid. “What does, ‘put down’ mean?” she rasped. “I don’t understand.” 

An uncomfortable feeling grew in me as I held her blank, gaze. 

Nina looked between her and me. 

“Thank you… Nina,” she said quietly. 

Nina tried to smile, but it was strained by fatigue. “You’re welcome.” A yawn overtook her face. 

Meiyu tilted her head, face softening a degree. “You need sleep.” 

“I can’t sleep now.” Nina grinned slightly, some of her old energy returning. “I think you need some waffles to help you heal.”

“Wah-fools?” Meiyu looked confused. 

Nina stifled a smile. “It’s food. Like sweet… bread? We eat them at breakfast with butter and…um… how to explain this?...” she rattled off a disruption in fluent Shu, and I watched the confusion clear from Meiyu’s face. 

“Ah, wo xianzai tingdong. Xiexie ni.” She examined her again, this time with a faint smile. “Nide Shu’Hua feichanghao! Ni xuexi nali?” 

“Zhe’r,” Nina said lightly, “Wo laode wo.” 

Her eyebrows went up. “Zhenme! Ni yiding hen shuai, shuode liuli!” 

Nina grinned at her impressed tone. “Duoxie. Wo xihuan xuexi yuyan- wo hui shuo Ke’Chi, Za’min’ai, Ra’can, Shu Han’ Hua, he Fei’jidan.” 

Meiyu sat back. “Wo ye shuo Ra’Kan.”

The delighted look on Nina’s face only deepened as she and Meiyu traded a handful of remarks- now in Ravkan- and for the first time, Meiyu seemed completely eat ease in simple a conversation. 

I couldn’t understand a word they were saying; they sounded like chattering birds. 

Nina’s smile was gentler now. “How about this: I’ll make you some waffles, and then you can try them for yourself.” 

It took a few seconds for the words to sink in; Meiyu only nodded, as if she hardly knew how to respond to such a thing. 

“I think you’ll like them.” 

Meiyu smiled a slow, pained smile. 

Nina left with a wink.

The friendly atmosphere shriveled and turned to dust once she was gone. 

“How long before you can work?” I wasn’t going to get bogged down with the niceties. Better to be straight and to the point. 

Meiyu spoke in my general direction, professional and unfeeling. “Cursemakers heal very fast. Maybe a few days.” 

“Good,” I said. 

That was the entirety of our conversation, and she lay back on the table, turning away from me with a distant expression. 

In that moment she didn’t look anything like a monster. 

But if she wasn’t a monster, I didn’t know what she was.


	7. Wishes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey! This is random, but all the italicized words didn't transfer to fic, so just assume that when the characters are speaking "in Shu," it's in English (but the words are italicized)... Yeah. Sorry. Formatting's a pain.

_“Mama?” He was just a wisp of a boy: a scared child with eyes that seemed to leap from his skull. “Mama.” When the woman didn’t respond, he shook her harder. “Mama. Wake up, Mama!”_

_“Hey!” His older sister yanked him away and made him look at her. “Baba said not to bother her!” By the look of her face, she was eight- maybe nine- yet the stretched, fraying expression in her eyes gave a draining oldness to her otherwise young face. “Baba says she’s sick!”_

_The little boy started to whimper._

_His sister’s hand shot out to cuff him sharply upside the head. “Stop crying,” she snapped._

_The whimpers immediately went silent. But then the tears started: shuddering sobs that soon turned to weak, wheezing gasps._

_Suddenly, the girl’s hand was pressed flat against his thin chest, making him start. “Calm down,” she ordered. Helpless, his wheezing escalated, and her face softened a fraction. “Calm down. You’re making it worse.” She frowned sternly at his small moans. “You’re okay. Breathe.”_

_Slowly, painfully, his chest rose and_ fell-more _normally the longer his sister gazed at him- until the panicked gasping eased into small, unhappy hiccups once more._

 _She took him by the shoulders- trying to be gentle in the way Gonggong said she needed to be. “Mama’s not feeling well,” she told him. “Don’t try and wake her,_ didi _. Dui?”_

_He wiped his watering eyes and refused to meet her gaze._

_She sighed. “Come on,_ xingan _.” With the brusque handling years of experience gave, she grabbed him under his armpits and swung him up and into her arms. “I’ll make the lights,” she whispered, jostling him with her brisk, businesslike steps. “You like that, don’t you?”_

_He nodded wordlessly, winding his arms around her neck as she carried him away- away from the dark and away from the woman who was their mother- and into the sun._

_She tutted at his pouting, plodding out behind their tiny hut to dump him in a cheerful patch of warm grass. One look at the rumpled mess of his hair made her pause. “So messy,” she grumbled, using her fingers to comb out the tangled cap out with a steady hand._

_“Ow-w!” Frustration making him splutter. “Stop it, Mei!” Whining, he tried (and failed) to_ bat _his older sister’s rough hands away. “Stop it!”_

 _“_ Ei _!” Her hand caught his fist and forced it down. “I won’t do it if you punch me,” she said bluntly._

_With a childish glare full of resentment, he stopped flailing._

_Satisfied, she cracked open her hand and let the glowing mist curl up, up, and into a golden bird, making his eyes widen with joy and amazement. Glare forgotten, he squealed with laughter when the bird landed on his head, and the tightness around his sister’s mouth relaxed into something warm. The light twisted around and floated down onto a dandelion bud, which shivered, splitting open to reveal silky yellow petals that became a dome of soft white stars._

_Bending over, Meiyu plucked the flower from the ground and handed it to her brother. “_ Gonggong _says that in Kerch, you blow the seeds, and it’ll grant you a wish!”_

_The boy smiled as he took it. “Can I wish for anything, Mei?”_

_“Yep!” Her voice was full of confidence. “But don’t tell anyone what you wish for. Okay?”_

_He nodded solemnly, and in one sloppy blow, away went the seeds: scattered to the mountain wind. “Now you!” Beside himself with excitement, he grabbed another flower and pressed it into his sister’s hand. “Your turn, Mei!” he hollered. “Mei, you make a wish!”_

_“Shhh! Stop yelling!” she laughed, clapping a hand over his mouth only to squawk in disgust when he licked her. “Euh!” Repulsed,_ _she shoved him away. “Cricket! You’re so gross!”_

_Giggling uncontrollably, he picked her a new flower and threw himself into her arms._

_She grunted under his weight, throwing him a dirty look. “What?” she growled playfully._

_“Make a wish, Mei!” he begged, quieter now. “Please?” he added after she flicked him._

_“Alright.” Fighting back a smile, she clutched the dandelion close and willed it to become-_

_“Meiyu!”_

_She gasped in pain as a hand jerked her to her feet._

_The dandelion was crushed underfoot: white and yellow mashed together._

_“Meiyu!” Awake and bedraggled, her mother’s face was dark with anger and worry as she shook her daughter. “Didn’t I tell you not to do that?”_

_Meiyu’s eyes were round as gold coins. “Y-yes, mother,” she stuttered, already bracing herself for the blow she knew was to come._

_The slap caught her by surprise anyway._

_Silently, her brother began to cry._

_“Never do that again!” Her mother shouted. “Do you hear me?”_

_“Yes, mother!” The sting had faded, but her cheek felt red-hot. “I’m sorry!” But her mother was already hauling her back inside- back into their dark, silent home; so later that night, with an empty stomach filled with hurt, she wished her brother would disappear, because it was his fault she’d gotten in trouble in the first place! “I wish I didn’t have a brother,” she thought crossly._

She didn’t mean it, of course. She never did.

But here’s the tricky thing about wishes: you don’t get what you want.

Usually, you get what you asked for.


	8. Songs (Year 2)

When Naj started calling me “Ama” I was shocked...and confounded…and happy. But then I caught sight of Kaz’s expression, and my joy was dimmed slightly. I think it pained my husband to hear him call a woman who he barely tolerated “mama”. Inej had been gone since he was two, so he had no clear memory of her. 

But Kaz did. 

I knew as well as anyone that even the best of memories could cut like a knife. 

Still, no matter how hard I tried to stay back, I fell head over heels the moment I saw him, in the same way I had with my girls. It hurt, but in the best way. I loved him with all that remained of my heart, and somehow, he loved me back. 

“Again, Ama! Please?” He begged in his froggy baby voice.

“What?” 

Mischief sparked in his eyes, and he giggled. It was good to hear him sound like a little boy once more. 

“Ah,” I said. “You want to do Tick Tock?” 

His head bobbed enthusiastically. 

I groaned dramatically. “But you are so heavy! I do not know if I can…” 

“Dragons are strong!” 

I raised an eyebrow. “Dragons, hm?” 

“Uh huh.” Still giggling, he crawled into my lap and whisper-screeched into my ear: “Pleeasse?” 

“Alright.” Hoisting him up in my arms I plopped him down on the ground and sighed. 

He sat back on his haunches and waited, inordinately pleased with himself. 

I closed my eyes and gently transformed into my full Cursemaker form- but this time there was no black tears. No anger. Just a gentle shifting and rearranging. Like changing out of your formal clothes into something warm and soft. 

A dragon now, I shook myself to smooth out the knots in my muscles; my scales rattled as I did: rubbing against each other like dry leaves. My talons were tucked safely in their beds, and I flexed my limbs, cracking the stiffness out of my joints. It wasn’t often that I took my true form, so watching me transform was absolutely fascinating Naj. 

Perhaps it was the novelty of the act that caught his imagination. 

Children did love the unusual- and grotesque. 

Naj launched himself at me, hugging me around my neck. I grunted. Little monkey, strangling me half to death!

“Sorry, Ama.” His arms loosened a bit, but he smacked a big, squishy kiss on my cheek.  
I rumbled, nuzzling him back.

Quick as a whip he hopped down. “Ok. I’m ready for Tick Tock now!” he patted my side as if I were a well-mannered pony, not a killing machine. 

I rolled my eyes. Saints, that child had the airs of a prince sometimes! Nonetheless, I pushed myself up to my full height, standing at least eight feet tall at least on my hind legs: a true Shu Han serpent. Each Cursemaker had their own unique coloring, and mine was a mix of black and gold. My horns brushed the ceiling, so I hunched over, ruffling Naj’s hair with a soft puff. 

He wrinkled his nose at the jet of hot air. One small hand reached out and touched the side of my face. “Your eyes look the same,” he said sweetly. “Like gold jewels.” 

I looked back at him as he stroked along the flat scales on my muzzle. There was no fear or revulsion in his face- just endless wonder- like he was seeing something strange and beautiful. In his eyes, I was a creature from a story, not a monster. Then his face brightened with some grand, reckless scheme. “If you had wings, you could fly with me on your back!” 

My belly shook as I chuckled. Saints, that child had such ideas! I bent down and slowly picked him up, quickly snaking my muscular tail around his ankles to hoist him up like a piece of meat in a butcher’s shop. I peered down my snout at him, my nose an inch away from his. 

Red-faced and giggling, he mashed his face up to mine, and smiled. 

It was rather adorable. 

True to my word, I wrapped my tail tighter around him and began to swing him like a human pendulum.

Left.

Right.

Left. 

Right. 

“Tick…. Tock… tick… tock!” he sang in Shu, squealing with laughter. “Higher! Higher!” 

I chuckled deep in my chest. I spoke Shu to Naj as much as I did Kerch, and now he switched between the two languages so easily I hardly noticed the change.

“Higher!” 

I obliged his request, and he whooped with joy. A few swings later I peered down my snout at him and noticed my son was slowly turning an alarming shade of maroon; any more would be unhealthy- and besides- he was heavy as a sack of potatoes! 

As carefully as possible, I let him down, and the silly child oozed onto the ground like a wet noodle, laughing uncontrollably. “That was fun!” 

I slid to the ground next to him and rested on my side, facing him. He scooted over to me and tucked himself into me with big smile “You have a big belly,” he informed me, patting it lovingly. 

I looked down at said “big belly”. (I supposed after two years of gorging myself on some truly excellent food I had gained weight- but I wasn’t fat!)

He giggled at my mildly affronted look and squished my “big belly” with gusto. “Like a big, scaly pillow!” he breathed, hugging me tight. 

I snorted. I’ve been called many things in my life. Pillow is not one of them. 

Naj reached out-up- towards my head, so I bowed it down to his level. Little hands ran along the smooth points of my horns and traced the jagged edges of my scales. “You probably scare people, but not me!” he boasted proudly. “I’m brave!” 

I ruffled his hair with my tail and lowered my head, humming contentedly.

Then he clambered over top of me with all of the grace of an elephant. 

We’d have to work on that, I thought as he belted me in the stomach with one little foot. I dropped my head back down and heaved a sigh. Laziness felt good after such a hectic week. 

Something touched the thick whip marks that ran across my back. I raised my head, craning back to see him frowning at them. The old wounds stood out like a sore thumb against the iridescent black and amber plates. Ugly, fleshly ropes that ran their way all down my spine. My hide twitched, and I watched his face turn thoughtful. 

“You must’ve gotten hurt real bad,” he mused. 

I did a dragon’s equivalent of a shrug. 

He pulled my head down and lay his cheek against mine, arms looped around my neck. “I’m sorry.” 

I whuffed. My tail coiled around him and I gave him a gentle squeeze. He ran around me and nestled back into my belly. I dropped my head down next to his side and lay still, watching the gold of the sun pour through the dirty windows. 

It was so peaceful and quiet, I found myself yawing in spite of myself. Air in; air out, like the movement of a hearth’s bellows. His chest rose and fell. 

Rose and fell.

It was so peaceful. 

My eyelids sunk low, and before I knew it, I was asleep, too.  
….

“Ama!” 

Tap. 

I grunted. 

Tap tap.

“Ama? Are you awake?” he asked in Shu. 

“Yes,” I grumbled, and proceeded to fall back to sleep almost immediately. 

“Ama, you’re still asleep,” he scolded. “You said you’d wake up ten minutes ago!”

It had been ten minutes? Damn. Time when by faster than I’d expect. I heard some strange noises, so I reluctantly opened one eye only to be jolted awake by the sight of Naj’s face mashed up right next to my eye. “Saints almighty!” I swore, jumping about a foot in the air. 

He doubled over laughing and I scowled, fighting back my own smile. 

I lumbered over to the wall separator and transformed, pulling on my clothes but still letting my scales show through. “Really, Naj. You shouldn’t scare me like that! I could have hurt you!” I called reproachfully, peering around the separator. 

He stopped laughing, looking a bit more apologetic. “Oh. Sorry, Ama. I forgot.” 

I sighed, buttoning up my shirt. “Naj… your Da doesn’t like leaving you alone with me. You know that, don’t you?” 

“Yes. But why?” He flopped on his back, looking up at the ceiling, and I did the same, albeit much more gingerly because of my horns. 

“I’m dangerous, Naj. You have to be very careful around me.” 

“I know you won’t hurt me,” he said confidently. 

“Nadir…”

“Okay, Ama. I’ll be careful.” 

“Thank you.” 

He was thoughtful for a bit. “Ama?” 

“Yes?” 

“Why do you forget?” 

I sighed again. How to explain such a thing to a child? “When I was a girl, I was married to a bad man in Shu Han,” I said gently. “My family died in the war, and when I came here, to Kerch, I was a slave.”

“Like my other Mama?” 

I swallowed. “Yes.” 

“Oh.” He looked sad. “I wish I remembered her.” 

I rolled over and kissed him on the top of his head. “I know, xingan. I’m sorry I can’t tell you about her. All I know was she loved you with all her heart.”

“Da never talks about her, and I don’t remember her, so I don’t know if I miss her.” Uncertain, he glanced over at me. “Is that wrong?” 

“I think…you may not remember her, but you shouldn’t forget her, ni’zao?” I pushed myself up onto my elbow. “Your mama is still your mama, Naj. I cannot replace her, and I never will.” I smiled, brushing back his flyaway curls. “But I still love you.” 

“You are my Mama,” he said seriously, “Just… a different kind.” 

“Shi. Just a different kind.” 

Distracted, his head tilted with mine as he examined the branches of bone that protruded from my skull. “Ama?” (Kerch now). 

“Yes?”

“Do you miss your family in Shu?” 

I lowered his dancing hand so he would look at me. “Very much.”

“What were they like?” 

“Loud,” I said truthfully. 

He giggled. 

“I had a big family. Many aunties and uncles. Many, many cousins. And a Shu Waipo and a Kerch Gonggong. When I married, I had to leave them all. I missed them very much.” 

“What about your Ma and Da? Don’t you miss them?” 

Mother and Father. Ice and Stone. Funny, I always forgot to remember the woman who bore me and the man who married her. They were detached from my memories in some way: always held at a careful distance. Did I miss them? Well… “Not as much as I should,” was the kindest answer I could say. 

“What do you mean?” Naj looked confused now. 

“It is… hard to explain,” I said softly. “But…they were scared. Of me.” 

“Why?” 

They were scared because the saw what I was. What I was becoming. It scared them so much they did everything they could to kill it. Sometimes, I think they feared me almost as much as they wished I didn’t exist. But I didn’t say any of that. Instead, I simply said, “I think… I think they feared what they didn’t know. A lot of people are scared by that, Naj.” 

“That’s a lot of stuff to be scared of,” he said, deep in thought.

“Dui. It makes life very hard.” 

“Do you remember them? Your family?” 

“Yes, but…” I paused, caught in his expectant gaze, “Not as well as I used to. But I still miss them. It’s like how you miss your mama.” 

He nodded. “That makes sense.” His eye lit up. “Wow! You’re Kerch, AND Shu!” 

“Yes. Well, more Shu than Kerch,” I chuckled. “My Gonggong was Kerch.” 

“Is that why you’re so white?” he asked innocently.

My eyebrows shot up. “Yes, I suppose so. Why?” 

He rambled on, oblivious. “Well, I heard people say all Shu are brown like dirt and sound like,” he let out a collection of the most ridiculous sounding gibberish I had ever heard. 

I pressed my lips together, vibrating with laughter. Sweet Ghezen! Is that what the Kerch said about the Shu? “Really?”

“Yes. They also say their faces look like pancakes!” He saw my confusion. “You know- flat.” 

“Ah. I see.” It should have been incredibly offensive, but hearing it from the mouth of a little boy- my own son- was too much. 

“I don’t think you’re face is flat, Ama,” Naj offered in supplication. 

An unladylike snort burst from me, and I covered my face, shaking with laughter. He was so sweet, this boy: so sweet and yet so incredibly innocent. 

Bemused and annoyed, his little brows met in one black line. “Shen’me?” 

I waved him away, still laughing. “Nothing. Nothing. Just… Don’t say that to any other Shu. It is not a nice thing to say, alright?” I informed him, straight-faced.

“Oh.” Apologetic, now. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” 

“Meiguan’xi- I am not mad.” I stood up and offered him my hand. When he gave it to me, I took it and looked at the layers upon layers of dirt that had built up on his skin. “Your Da will be here soon! Ai, what will he think of me, coming home to see his son so dirty?” 

“Mama, it’s not that bad,” he complained. 

“Yes, it is.” 

“It’s not like he cares anyway…” 

“Shh.” I pointed at the chair. “Come. Sit.”

He moaned and groaned but dutifully plopped into the chair, straight-backed and still, while I combed the wild tangle of jet-black hair into submission. Saints alive, I had no idea how it got to be this unruly: honestly, it was like he had walked into a tornado of dirt, sticks, and dead matter! “You must wash more often. It is good to be clean!” I admonished him. I pulled a dead beetle out of his hair and wrinkled my nose. “Aiyo! What is this?” I showed it to him. 

He shrugged. “I don’t know. A bug?” He grinned, eyes sparkling. “Can I keep it please? It’s a nice specimen and I want to start a collection!” 

“I…” I gave him an incredulous look. Specimen? Where had he heard the word “specimen”? He was five! “Well,” I muttered, “here is your…specimen.” I handed it to him and he tucked it away in his pocket. I shook my head. “Why are you so dirty, ei?” I asked, flicking more dubious debris from the battered comb. 

Another shrug. 

Now I plucked dead bits of leaf from his hair and pointed at the small pile in my palm, hand on hip. “Look! First a bug, now leaves! How does this happen?” I scolded. 

“I don’t know,” he sang, smirking. “I don’t know, but I do know it’s your fault.” 

I pinched his side for his cheekiness, making him squeak. The comb brushed through his hair once more, and I noted with pleasure that it looked more like hair and less like a rat’s nest. “There.” I made him stand up and look at himself in the mirror. “See? Much better!” I praised. 

He patted his hair and made a face. “I look weird.” 

“You are hen’shuai- very handsome.” I insisted. “Not, ‘weird’.”

“Hmm.” He tousled his hair until it stuck up in all directions. 

I rolled my eyes. “At least there are no bugs,” I sighed. I sat down in my chair next to the window and looked out into the sunny streets. It was a mild, beautiful day- not hot, but still warm. Like early spring in An’Lin Shu. Naj settled down at my feet, leaning against my legs, and I absentmindedly began running my fingers through his now soft hair, thinking about my home. 

“Mama, what song are you humming?”

I immediately stopped. Kaz never failed to remind me how distracting it was. He always got this look on his face that spoke of past horrors. “It’s a song from my country, my love. A folk song.”

My son smiled. “I like it. It’s pretty.” He paused, thoughtful. “What is it about?” 

My smile was slow and tired. “It’s a song about a jasmine flower, and how beautiful it is. A love song.” I chuckled at the disgusted look that contorted my sons face at the mention of love. 

“Could you sing it for me, mama?” 

“Yes, my love. I will sing.”

My son quickly clambered in my lap and snuggled in. His bony little backside dug into my legs and turned them numb, but it made me smile as I wrapped my arms around him and willed the last of my dragon away. 

And I began to sing as I rocked back and forth. 

“Hǎo yì duǒ měilìde mòlì huā  
Hǎo yì duǒ měilìde mòlì huā  
Fēnfāng měilì mǎn zhīyā  
Yòu xiāng yòu bái rénrén kuā  
Ràng wǒ lái jiāng nǐ zhāi xià  
Sòng gěi biérénjiā  
Mòlì huā ya mòlì huā…” 

My voice was soft and dusty from misuse, but I smiled as he clapped. 

“Can you sing the Mouse Song,” he piped up, “I like that!”

“How about… you sing with me,” I smiled. “Practice your Shu.” 

“Okay.” He held out his hands and I gently put mine in his to do the hand motions. I used to sing it when I was very young with my little brother, and now I could sing it with Naj. 

“Xiao laoshu,  
Shang deng tai,  
Tou chi you,  
Xia bu lai  
Jiao, ‘Mama!’  
Ma bu zai.  
Gulu gulu gulu gulu gun xialai!” 

Usually Naj was too shy to sing, but he loved that song, so I would sing the harmony and he would sing the melody. I laughed softly. We made a ragged choir. 

“Now a Kerch song,” he chirped. “My song!”

“Your song? Again?”

“Yeah!”

“Alright.” I rested my chin on top of his little head, an old Kerch ballad my grandfather used to sing vibrating through me as I rocked with him. 

“Do you see that little boy  
Oh my dear, oh my dear?  
Do you see that little boy  
Running by me?

He has sunlight in his hair  
And a laugh as light as air  
He’s a sweetheart  
And cannot leave his father. 

His eyelids drooped low as he yawned. “It sounds like ‘The Running Girl.’”

I blinked slowly. “It is. It is just…a little different.” I swallowed. 

Suddenly he looked up and grinned. “Da!”

My eyes flew up to the stoic form that watched us from the doorframe. Oh. I hoped with all my heart he hadn’t heard me sing. My arms fell away and I pulled back. 

Naj hopped off my lap, and scampered over to my husband. “Hi Da.”

Kaz looked down at him and his face softened into a small smile. “Hello Naj. Did you have a good day?” 

“Yes! Mama did Tick Tock-“

Kaz looked confused. “Tick Tock?”

“Oh, it’s where she turns into her cool dragon shape and swings me upside down with her tail!” Naj explained brightly. “It’s really fun, Da!” 

Kaz looked at me, and I suddenly became very interested in the clouds outside. “I’m sure it is,” he said coldly.

“-and then she fell asleep (she snores, Da!)-“

“Ei! I have big lungs!” I protested. 

Naj shushed me. “And then she told me about her family…And…oh yeah. She sang a song in Shu! She taught me some of the words and I can understand most of it, but it’s hard to translate some of the lyrics because Shu poetry is weird…” He babbled on while Kaz listened intently. “And then, she combed my hair, AND, look what I found in it!” 

He held up the dead beetle, legs curled in, and I groaned internally in disgust. 

Kaz picked it up and examined it. He handed it back to his son, who pocketed it happily. 

“That’s about all that happened today. And I thought the dead bug was pretty interesting,” he insisted. 

“Xingan, lai zhe’er.” I spoke quickly in Shu, and his head perked up. He ran back to me and I smoothed down his unruly hair. “Gen baba qu, haoma?” 

“Dui, mama.” He was practically bouncing with excitement. 

I gently pecked him not the cheek and pushed him in the direction of Kaz, who stood watching us with an odd expression on his face. My smile fell a little. 

“Da, could I go and play now?”

“Yes.”

“Will you come with me?” 

“Yes, I will, Naj.” 

Naj ran off, his feet thumping clumsily. 

Kaz watched him go. “What did you say to him?” Always the same question. 

“I told him to go with his baba. He’s been wanting to see you for a while.” I smiled my slow, pained smile. “He’s so smart. Picking up more and more Shu every day I speak to him. Such a smart boy.” My heart filled with pride. 

“His mother would be proud.” 

What he meant was, “Inej would be proud.” The message was clear as it ever was: you’re not his mother. You will never be. 

“Yes, she would be.” 

“You’re getting too attached.” 

I lifted my eyes to him. “When your six year old boy considers me his mother and the wife of his father, what would you have me do? Turn him away? Pretend he doesn’t exist?” 

Kaz clenched his jaw, his face like stone. 

“I will never be your true wife - but he calls me Ama- and to me, he is my son. I would give my life again to save his.” My thoughts drifted to the thick scars on my stomach. Reminders of protecting little Naj with my body. 

“I did thank you for that,” he said stiffly. 

Barely, I thought sourly. “Yes. But I am still waiting for your respect.” 

“You have it. I let you take care of Naj...”

“Let me?” I hissed, rising to my feet. “When I take care of your boy-when I tell him stories, sing him to sleep, guard him with my life- it is because I choose to.” I lowered my voice so Naj wouldn’t hear us arguing. “You don’t LET me do anything. Don’t forget: I am the most powerful Cursemaker this country has seen in centuries.” 

His eyes turned black as coal. “Is that a threat?” His voice was soft and dangerous. 

“Maybe.” 

I inhaled sharply as he shoved his cane into my throat, choking me. 

“Challenge me again, and I won’t hesitate to tear your eye out with one hand and throw you out on the streets with the other.” Kaz stepped closer. “Remember who you were, Cursemaker. You were nothing but a Penny when we first met: cheap, common, and expendable.” 

I blinked. Suddenly I was back in the Shu Han; I was alone, and Kaz’s face became his, and I found that I wasn’t the Blood Dragon anymore.

I found I wasn’t anything. 

“I could have used the change in my pocket to buy you.” 

The words dug into me, and I felt dirty and raw: shaken to the core.

“You have no one and nothing,” He continued coldly. “Your own family wouldn’t even take you back. Knowing the Shu, I suspect they told you to die rather than return.” 

Go and die, murdering whore.

You’re worth more dead to us than alive. 

I couldn’t think of anything cutting enough in return, because in that moment, I hated my husband for the awful cruelty of his words. 

The worst thing was: everything he said was true. 

My throat worked. “Was Inej Ghafa not a prostitute?” I croaked. “Did you call her a whore, too?” 

He paled. The cane fell away. 

I coughed, eyes watering. “You’re a bastard, Kaz Brekker,” I said lowly. Bitterly. “It’s men like you who make this world a living hell for us.” 

He seemed surprised at his own outburst. 

With one swing of my arm, the door snapped shut and locked itself so Naj wouldn’t be able to see us. 

A thick tendril of gold mist shot out and wrapped around his throat, jerking it up. 

“You think I’m human?” I hissed. “You have no idea what I am.”

He stood stock-still. 

We both knew I could wring his neck if I wanted to. 

And oh, did I want to. 

I made my way over and we stood nose to nose. “Use that cane on me,” I said softly, “and I will tear your heart out and eat it while it still beats.” I cocked my head. “Understand?” 

He blinked once. 

I yanked my magic back with a snap and stalked away. Weary down to my bones, I made my way to the window to sit back in my seat. Saints. Why did the day have to end like this? I looked through him. “Your son is waiting for you.”

He seemed unable to move. 

The lopsided gait faded away down the hall. 

I sighed. After two years I still was weary around him. But perhaps not as much as I should have been, I thought grimly. Kaz Brekker could cut out my eyes out if I even thought about crossing him. He needed to know I would do the same, if he pushed me far enough. 

I needed to be much, much more cautious. 

He would be wise to do the same.


	9. Bombs

“Is that Wylan,” Meiyu asked, delighted. 

“Yep.” Jesper beamed at the small portrait of his adorable merchling. 

And then a massive BOOM shook the very foundations of the Van Eck manor, causing the crystals of the chandelier to dance crazily- 

...

And then it was the day of the raid, and I shoved my Cricket away from the gunfire and screamed: RUN!- the bridge- GO!- 

And then he ran- chaotic- dodging bullets– 

-The telltale whistle- 

-dodging, stumbling, staggering-TOO CLOSE- and then-

I threw myself to the side- 

BOOM! 

My ears rung with white shock. 

Red fell like a spray of bloody mist onto my hand, peppering it with red flecks.

Red, I thought dreamily, watching it fall. Red. Red. So much re-

I shot upright, head spinning, heaving- ringing- 

Where was he? Where was he? FUCK. I couldn’t see him. I couldn’t see him. I- 

My legs gave out, and I felt myself fall. I forgot the fire, and the bullets, and the bombing, and the screaming babies, and I crawled over to what was left of my baby brother, and, and-

...

“I did it!” Wylan rushed down the stairs towards us, bug-eyed goggles still plastered to his soot-covered face. “I think I’ve figured out what was going wrong-“

“Ghezen, Wylan, you’re going to kill yourself someday,” Jesper snapped, examining the faint trickle of blood that oozed from a stray piece of shrapnel. 

I felt sick at the color. 

Red. 

Red. 

So much red-

“Do I need to kiss it to make it all better,” Jesper purred, inching closer to Wylan with a grin. 

Wylan turned bright red and shook him off. 

“Meiyu?”

My eyes snapped to Jesper, whose smile had fallen away. 

“Are you alright?”

I swallowed down bile. “What is it for, then?” I asked Wylan tartly.

“This? Oh.” Wylan removed his goggles, his eyes shining with the light of a chemist on the verge of a breakthrough; a child enamored with a new toy. “Kaz was asking me to develop a bomb that’s completely waterproof-“ his mouth moved in a frenzy as he babbled about powders and reactions and energy output, but his words were muted as the bombs exploded again and again in my mind. 

“Is this some sort of joke to you?” I cut him off, too angry to listen. 

He blinked at my cold tone. “What?” 

“Do you think blowing people up is fun,” I asked, “because you seem to be very happy.” 

Jesper seemed as taken aback as him. “Meiyu-“

“Do you even know what Kaz is going to use those on?” I demanded. My voice shook. “Have you ever considered what things like that could do in the wrong hands?” 

By the looks on both their faces, no. No they didn’t. 

I shook my head in disgust. Sick with anger, I left their company, but not before muttering, “ignorant little boy,” under my breath. 

Those men, kind though they were, were completely ignorant to what it meant to kill! Kaz and I were no Saints, by any means- but this-this was a game to them! They were so wrapped up in the flash and the bang they didn’t even recognize the lives they’d be taking; the blood that would spill. I wondered if men like him were the ones who developed those terrible bombs that shattered people like brittle glass and left the rest of us to pick up the pieces. I wondered if they ever took the time to learn how their toys were being put to use. 

No, I thought sourly, I doubt they ever did. 

Men like him were children with matches, and they delighted in the burn.


	10. Music

“You play beautifully,” I said from around the corner. 

Wylan nearly leapt out of his skin.

“Oh.” I shifted embarrassedly, stepping back from the doorframe. “I’m sorry.” 

“No, no, it’s alright.” His laugh was bemused. “You just surprised me.”

I admired the polished wood and ivory keys from a distance. “What is it called?”

“Piano,” he offered. 

“Piano.” Awkward but still curious, I crept closer to hear the music better. “We didn’t have anything like it back home, but…I wish we did,” I added wistfully. 

His fingers touched the keys and he began to play a rolling tune. “You like music?” he said without taking his eyes off the keys. 

“I love it,” I murmured. I closed my eyes, and the notes that floated in my head rearranged and began to take the shape of an old Kerch ballad. “I’ll Walk Beside You”.

Now. What were the words again? 

“I’ll walk beside you in the world today,” I sang sweetly under my breath, “while songs and dreams and flowers bless your way. I’ll look…” I thought for a moment and laughed at my momentary lapse in memory, “I’ll look into your eyes, and…hold your hand. I’ll walk beside you through the golden land.” 

Wylan began to play with me, and he seemed as immersed in the music as I was. 

Gonggong would sing it to Waipo on the rare occasion when he was especially tipsy, and although she cringed at the sour notes, he meant it with love, and she knew it. 

I stopped singing, suddenly self-conscious and more than a little sad. 

“Honestly, you sound better than Jesper and Nina put together,” he chuckled. 

I snorted in a self-deprecating way. “I sound better in Shu.” 

He scooted across the bench. “You can sit- if you want,” he offered politely

Smirking slightly, I slid into the seat next to him and glanced at the telltale blush that rose in him. “What?”

“Nothing.” Flustered, he hurriedly struck up the tune, now red. 

I bit my lip to keep from smiling. 

My voice was clearer now, and Wylan, to my shock, sang with me, his voice blending with mine in the most unexpected way. The lyrics came back to me, leading me through the song like an old friend. 

“I’ll walk beside you through the world tonight,  
Though grassy meadows bathed in starry light   
I’ll look into the sky and hold your hand  
I’ll walk beside you in this blessed land.” 

The last few notes of the song faded in the empty music room. 

I sat staring at the keys. “I’m sorry for how I reacted. About the bombs.”

The blue of his eyes was nothing but kind. “You reacted how most people would.” 

“I don’t think you’re, ah-“ I played with my skirt- “-ignorant little boy.” 

“Well, that’s a relief,” he said dryly. 

The song faded and I felt a rush of disappointment. 

“Another?” he hinted. 

My lips quirked in the barest hint of a smile. “Alright.”


	11. Fever

I remember that Kaz got sick a few months later.

And I mean, really, really sick.

So did Wylan.

Tonight, the wailing of the sirens shrieked down the streets, throwing half of Ketterdam- the Kerch half- into a panic; Kerch and Shu alike fled the city- poured from the streets- and trampled any unfortunate enough to get in their way. Fear makes people unbelievably cruel: fear and mindless, animal panic; fear festered like an open sore, for it didn’t take a genius to notice the Shu were relatively untouched.

Once, some kind, foolish souls tried to help: they went out into the city to try and save those who could be saved. A few survived, but in the end, the fever was too much, and they failed.

Poor, kind fools: they failed, and they paid for their failure with a rope around their necks.

My restaurant had to be closed for the safety of the employees. Shu businesses across the city were closed down, broken-into, ransacked- and for a time, many lost their livelihoods.

Still, we were Shu. We had survived The War, and (Gods be good,) this, too, would pass.

But to Kaz? To Wylan? It was bad.

Only, I didn’t realize how bad, until-

“Kaz!”

I flinched awake.

“Kaz! Kaz?” Muffled swearing. “Ghezen…“

More pounds. Frantic. Desperate.

“Ma?” Naj’s silhouette blocked the doorway- untouched, because I had protected him with my magic: I had wrapped it around him like a shroud. But it wasn’t enough. “Ma? What is it?”

Kaz fumbled for his cane in the other room.

I dragged myself out of bed and stumbled to the door. “Jesper? Is that you?”

“Yes.” There was something in his voice that scared me. “Please-“

I wrenched the door open and froze.

Jesper’s eyes were glassy with tears. “He won’t wake up.”

“Shen’me?-“

“Everyone’s gone. The mediks don’t know what it is.” His words came faster and faster. “I don’t know what to do- he won’t wake up.”

Kaz appeared next to me, clutching the doorframe. “I don’t think this is a cold, either.” A sheen of sweat covered his face, and his hand shook on his cane.

Jesper stared. “You look awful.”

A bit of his old fire came back as he growled, “That’s very helpful, Jesper.” His chest was heaving like he couldn’t get enough air in them.

“Look at me,” I said sharply.

“I’m fine,” Kaz snapped, prickly as ever.

“Shut up.” I grabbed him by the arms and twisted him about so he was face to face with me. He started to shove me off but I dug my talons in. “Look at me,” I repeated.

His eyes finally met mine, and I peered into the golds and browns, scanning, scanning for…there. That cloudiness. The flat blurriness instead of the razor sharp of a blade.

I pulled back. “It’s Ghost Fever.”

“Ghost Fever?” Jesper’s voice was incredulous. “Here?”

I looked at them both. “It’s from us.” Something like shame made me small. “We’ve all had it at some point.”

“If that’s true, why haven’t you been helping us?” Kaz said lowly.

I turned. He was beyond angry. Livid. And suddenly I was too. “Because I’m Shu, and here, I’m not worth the rope it takes to hang me.”

The icy fire dimmed slightly.

I released a breath and turned to Jesper. “Is Nina sick?”

“No. She’s fine. She’s at the house.”

“Good.”

“Mama?” Naj had slipped in without me noticing. I forgot how quiet he was sometimes. “Is Uncle Wylan that sick?”

“Yes.” I bent down and took his face in my hand. “You listen to me: we’re leaving. Now. I want you to grab a change of clothes and come back as quickly as possible- you’re going to stay with Aunt Nina for a few days.”

He rushed out without question. I spoke to Kaz even as I took a step away. “Naj needs to get away from you. To the country.”

“Is he safe?”

I twisted my hair back and secured it in a bun. “For now.” I did a quick appraisal of my husband. “Can you walk?”

“Yes.”

“If you collapse I don’t care what you say: I will use my magic to tow you.”

He grunted.

“Okay, I’m ready.” Naj came running in, and I grabbed him by the arm, shut the door, and began steering us away, towards the direction of the Van Eck mansion.

I was marching up the stairs, and before I even knew I was in the house, through the door, leaning over Wylan, pressing my wrist to his forehead, pulling his eyelid up, watching the blue roll and twitch, listening to the mumbling, hearing the delirium, the rasping, crackling breaths.

Mrs. Hendriks was silent through the whole thing.

I held my hands over his face and passed them down, letting the cold settle on him like drops of water, seep over him, to draw the fever away. “Will you be alright, Nina?” I said over my shoulder.

Her eyes didn’t leave Wylan’s still form. “Yes.” Nina wrapped her arms around his thin shoulders and spoke into his hair. “We need to go, darling.”

Naj couldn’t seem to tear himself away from his Da. “You’ll be alright.”

Kaz nodded.

He finally took a step back.

“Be good, my love.” I kissed him on the cheek. “We’ll see you soon.”

“Come on, sweetie.” Nina’s hand splayed across his back, and they hurried away.

Jesper paced, that nervous, sporadic energy roiling beneath his skin like an itch.

Kaz watched him go from where he sat hunched over in a chair, heaving from the journey up the stairs. He was- at most- hours away from where Wylan was.

I strode over to Kaz and stood there, arms crossed. “You need to lay down, and rest,” I murmured. I said it as carefully as I could, because this man was a fighter, and he’d fight me every step of the way even if it meant he died in the process. “The fever is filling your lungs up with fluid. You’ll drown in it if it's not drained. Believe me- I took care of my brother when he was sick. His lungs were much weaker than yours, and he almost died.”

Cricket wasn’t as strong as Kaz. Not by a long shot. He recovered from the Fever- barely- but he could never catch his breath. Sometimes, he’d get overexcited, or panicked, and his breaths would turn to gasps, and he would suffocate.

It made my mother cry.

It became my job to take care of him- watch out for him- and I learned to use my magic to keep his lungs strong, keep him breathing.

I took care of him until he died.

“Kaz.” I snapped my fingers in front of his eyes. Checking his response. “Can you hear me?” I said loudly.

He somehow had enough strength to glare at me. But every move seemed too slow, too sluggish. I was worried.

He tried to stand (I think to get away from my dancing fingers.)

My magic was wrapped around him and pushed him back onto the couch.

His hand rose, trying to shove the magic off, but he was to deep in the Fever to do much.

I laughed dryly. “Alright, you’re done.”

And with a snap of my fingers, I rendered him unconscious.

God, it was satisfying!

Jesper whistled. “You just knocked Dirtyhands out.”

“He’s wasting my time.” I checked Wylan’s breathing and it was shallow as ever. The blockage was getting worse. “I’m going to have to drain his lungs. It won’t be pretty, but he needs to breathe.”

“He was fine yesterday.” We both looked at Mrs. Hendriks, whose hand lay across her son’s face. It rested there, so tenderly. Her voice was the barest whisper. “He was fine.”

“When did this start?” I washed my hands in the basin and shook them dry.

“Yesterday.”

I looked at her, hard. “You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

If I didn’t drain his lungs now, he would fade away into nothing.

Like a ghost.

I pulled Jesper to me. “I need a basin.” He began to walk away, and I tightened my grip. “When I wake him up, he’s going to panic,” I whispered. “There’s fluid in his lungs, and it needs to come out, now.”

“What do I need to do?”

“He won’t be able to breathe, so you need to keep him calm. You need to be calm. Do whatever it takes. Hold him down if you have to.”

His mouth was a tight line. “There’s no other way?”

“This is the fastest.”

He knew exactly what I was choosing not to say.

I released my grip on Jesper and came up to Mrs. Hendriks, who hadn’t stopped stroking her son’s forehead. I didn’t want Mrs. Hendriks to see this. “I’m going to wake him up now. Do you think you can stay?”

She didn’t even hesitate before answering, “He’s my boy. Of course I’m going to stay.”

Jesper returned with the basin, and Mrs. Hendriks stood up but never let go of her son’s hand. They both looked to me; twin pillars of steel.

I raised my palms up and let the magic flow out from me and into Wylan.

His eyes shot open, and he made the most horrible, rasping gurgle- panting- heaving- scrabbling, trying to get air- arching up.

“Hold him up!” I barked.

Jesper pulled him up.

“Wylan, sweetheart, don’t panic!”

“-Wy, look at me, look at me-“

“Wylan, I need you to stay calm.”

Wylan began thrashing.

“Wylan, you’re not helping.”

“Wylan!”

He went rigid, shuddering. He was pale as death, turning blue.

I worked fast, drawing the fluid out, up, and down.

He gasped and choked and gagged.

“Shhh, my darling. Shh.”

“Sorry about this, Wylan.”

I clenched my fist, and he doubled over, shaking.

The bowl was thrust under him.

His cough turned into a rumble.

Awful, liquid retching splashed in our ears.

“It’s alright, you’ll be alright.”

More gasping.

“You’re okay, Wy, you’re okay. Breathe. Breathe.”

“It’s almost done, it’s almost done.”

“You’re almost done, Wylan.”

_Retch._

_Splash._

_Gasp._

“Shhh. My brave boy. My Wylan.”

My magic forced its way into his lungs and pumped in air. Once. Twice.

“Breathe.”

His knuckles were white against the rim of the bowl.

“Breathe.”

One by one, the fingers relaxed.

“Breathe.”

Head still bent low, his chest rose and fell, and he breathed.

“You’re alright,” I repeated. “You’re alright. Breathe in, deep.”

He did.

“Now,” I pulled the bowl away from him and touched his cheek, “sleep.”

His eyes slid shut and he let out a long sigh.

Sighs meant he could breathe again.

Sighs were good.

“Sleep, my friend,” I whispered. “Sleep, and this, too, will pass.”

Jesper and Mrs. Hendriks lowered him down like he was spun glass.

I finally let myself unravel the slightest bit. “He’ll sleep for the rest of the day. The fever is just part of the healing, but now he can breathe. He’ll be fine.” I pressed my palm to his head and another wave of cold seeped down, settling on him like a blanket. “Make sure he drinks water. He needs liquid. Salts. Broth, and then maybe some bread. Don’t let him tire himself- his lungs are fragile. And don’t let him outside for at least a few days. This is going around like wildfire.”

“Meiyu?”

I turned my head, bone tired. “What is it, Jesper?”

“Can I hug you?”

I blinked. “…I suppose?”

He nearly cracked my ribs- he hugged me so hard.

When he let me go, Mrs. Hendriks took my hands in hers and kissed me on the forehead. Something wet hit my face. “Thank you,” she whispered. There were tears in her eyes. “Thank you.”

I nodded awkwardly and turned to Kaz’s limp form: a sleeping wolf.

“Your turn,” I muttered. I washed my hands, reknotted my hair, and dragged the couch over so we could all stand around him. “I have a feeling this is going to be much harder,” I mused.

“Much harder,” Jesper agreed.

“I don’t think he’d want any of us to touch him,” Mrs. Hendriks said faintly.

“Let’s finish this as quickly as possible, hm?”

We all nodded.

I bent over Kaz to examine him properly. He was so hot I could feel it without touching him, not to mention delirious. And, by the sound of it, he too needed his lungs cleaned out.

I blew out a breath.

Saints, he was going to kill me.

My magic wrapped around him, coiling into his mouth and down into his lungs.

Grim, I cracked my knuckled and smiled down at my monstrous husband. “Rise and shine, darling.” I snapped.

His eyes crept opened. Blinked. Went wide-

And that’s when that blasted cane came whistling for my head.

I caught it in one hand and forced him down with every ounce of strength I had. “It’s me, you idiot!” I bellowed. “Ghezen’s tits, stop it!”

Jesper yanked the cane away.

Kaz’s choke turned into a snarl the moment it left his hands.

“It’s-“

His hand closed around my throat and suddenly, I was the one who couldn’t breathe.

I gasped like a landed fish.

Mrs. Hendriks shocked us all when she slammed him down into the cushions.

“Get the bowl!” I howled.

The bowl was shoved in front of him.

I clenched my fist, and Kaz doubled over, the roiling sound of fluid following close behind. I panted, hard. “This wasn’t in my contract, you know.”

More coughing.

We all watched him, out of breath and cautious.

The coughing turned into a rattling breath.

A whole lungful of good, clean air.

“It’s Meiyu, Kaz,” I murmured. “Just me.”

His head slowly lifted, and he looked at me with bloodshot, watering eyes.

“Do you know where you are?” I asked slowly. “And who I am?”

He nodded, still breathing hard.

The bowl was taken away.

I didn’t even want to think of what it looked like.

“You’re alright now, but you need to sleep,” I told him. “The fever will break in a few hours, and I won’t bring Naj back until it’s totally safe.”

Another nod.

I stepped towards him and held a hand out, palm up. “Sleep.”

The magic floated out and brushed against him, once more dragging him under in a deep, sound sleep.

The moment he slid back, we all let out a collective sigh.

I glanced at them. “You can stay with Wylan if you want. I’m going to move Kaz into one of the spare rooms.”

“Do you need help?”

“No, thank you.” I gingerly cocooned him in my magic and lifted him up. With a flick of my hand the bowl and its contents disappeared. “Goodnight Jesper. Mrs. Hendrik.”

They bade me the same, and I slumped from the room with my husband in tow. “You know, I think I deserve a pay raise for this,” I said glumly. “This wasn’t in my contract…”

Kaz bobbed along, blessedly silent.

I gave him a quick (magical) clean, lay him on the bed, and drew the covers up so he didn’t shiver. And when everything was in order, I dropped myself in the rocking chair and just…sighed. Exhausted.

I didn’t realize I had fallen asleep until I woke up.

Sheets rustled as someone tossed and turned.

I heard a name.

Her name.

Just once.

Even Dirtyhands couldn’t keep nightmares at bay.

“Wake up, Kaz,” I ordered gently. “It’s just a dream.” My voice rang strong and clear in the empty room.

The muttering stopped.

It was pitch black; black as the inside of the Ship.

I opened my hand and let a soft golden glow fill the room, and I saw Kaz staring at me without seeing. “Why did you leave me?”

The question was raw and carried the crushing weight of boundless grief.

I knew what it felt like to lose someone you loved with all your heart. As much as I learned to hate him, I couldn’t turn away from that. Step by step, I crossed the room until I stood at his side. “I’m not her, Kaz,” I said as plainly as I could. “I’m Meiyu, and I’m sorry for what you lost.”

He looked past me, through me, and still saw her face. “Who’s Meiyu?”

I smiled without joy. That was the question, wasn’t it? “No one, Kaz.” I checked his temperature with my magic and frowned at its dangerous heat. “Just a ghost.”

“I don’t believe in ghosts,” he rasped, sounding almost like himself.

Chuckling, I crossed the room and dunked a rag in water, willing it to run ice-cold. “Not all ghosts are dead, Kaz,” I said over my shoulder. “Some are very much alive.”

“What are you doing?”

I crossed back and raised a brow at his tense expression. “I won’t touch you.”

A ribbon of my magic lifted the rag and draped it across his forehead.

“You cared for the girls in the Menagerie,” he mumbled.

I sighed. “Meiyu, Kaz. Meiyu the ghost, remember?” I carefully pulled the quilt around him and added another blanket for good measure.

Awareness flickered to life in Kaz’s eyes. He seemed to draw away- into himself. “You aren’t real,” he rasped. “You’re gone. You left me.” The paleness of his face seemed to glow against the black.

He really had no idea who I was. That, or he didn’t care.

I shook my head. “She’ll never leave you. You love her too much to let her go.” I let my magic flow over him in a feather-light wave, willing him to sleep. “Rest now. I’m here.”

Gold eyes met brown. “You’re here,” he repeated faintly. He faded off to sleep again; the look on his face was…peaceful.

…

I jerked awake to the sound of choked wheezing. In two shaky strides, I was out of my chair and at his side, one hand pressing down on his chest as I growled at him to quit fighting me, coaxing his lungs to expand and contract, in and out, in and out. “Breathe deep,” I ordered, “slowly.”

His lungs were clear but inflamed. Breath by breath, they relaxed. Eased.

The wheezing slowed and faded.

“You’re here?”

“Unfortunately.” I pulled my hand away. “Now go to sleep. Your fever is spiking again.”

“Can’t.”

I wanted to bang my head against the wall.

“Tell me a story,” he mumbled.

“Excuse me?”

“A story.”

His mind must have been far, far away by this point.

“For the love of-” I pulled the chair up next to him and sank down once more, making sure the light dimmed to a hazy yellow glow. “One story, and then you’ll shut up?”

Bleary-eyed, he nodded his reply.

What in Saint’s name… “Sweet Ghezen, why me?” I implored to the sky.

Kaz’s face was expectant.

I rolled my eyes. “Fine,” I huffed. “Once upon a time, in a city named Ketterdam, there was a mean, nasty crow who couldn’t be nice if he tried. He walked up and down the streets, cawing and making everyone’s lives miserable, until a Shu dragon came down from the Heavens and ate him.” I grinned at my own joke. “The end,” I finished with relish.

“That was terrible,” was my delayed response.

I threw my hands up. “What else do you want?” I spluttered. 

“A proper ending.”

“Huh- don’t we all,” I muttered under my breath.

He waited.

“Fine.” The rest of the story came out extremely fast and rather snide. “The dragon ate the crow but he was so tough and bitter he made her sick so she threw him back up and he had to use a cane for the rest of his life.” I caught my breath. “The end.”

His expression didn’t change.

“What?” I growled, sneering. “Do I look like I’m here to entertain you?”

Kaz spoke almost to himself. “Now you sound like me.”

He started to cough, and I pressed him back and forced him to drink sips of water, much to his irritation. “The more you talk, the worse it’ll be.” I shoved my hair aside and dropped myself into the chair to recline. “Trust me. My brother was ten times worse than you.”

“Asthma.”

I eyed him wearily. “What?”

“I think your brother had asthma.” He coughed again. “People are born with it.”

I snorted. “I thought he was just doing it to get attention.”

“Tubes in your lung,” he wheezed, “close up.” He took a gulp of water. “Smoke. Mold. Pollen. Animals. Stress.” More water, more coughing. “Makes it worse.”

“Oh.” I leaned my chin against my hand, and rocked, too hard to be peaceful. Some hideous parasite spread through me, eating away at my guts, and I called it guilt. Guilt and self-disgust. “You know what? I’ll tell you another story, since the first one was bullshit,” I said bluntly.

Kaz looked faintly amused, but I cut him off.

“Once, long ago,” I mocked, “a beautiful boy was born in a village far away. He was much beloved by his parents, but his lungs were weak, so he always had to be taken care of. His sister- a half sister- despised him for his weakness. So whenever he’d cough and choke, she’d shout at him to be quiet, or strike him, because she was a child, and children can be cruel.”

I didn’t know why I was telling him this; I sounded delirious myself.

“And one time,” I continued, “When his sister was mad with loneliness and jealousy, he choked, and she just… pretended not to see.”

“Did he die?” Kaz’s voice was clearer now: sharp enough to draw blood.

“No.” I met his gaze, and he didn’t turn away from what he saw, because he knew all too well the monstrous things ordinary people are capable of. “I helped him breathe. And I swore to never do such a thing again.”

His eyes didn’t leave my face.

“He never remembered my cruelty. The young forget so easily.” I began rocking, less frantically now. “But I did.”

Back and forth.

“I never forgot.”

Back and forth.

“That’s my story,” I said to the dark. “Now go to sleep.”

He did.

Peace at last.

I rocked and rocked.

Rocked and rocked.

I fell asleep rocking.

…

_My husband was stone drunk today, and the heat inside was suffocating, so when Cricket snuck in to visit, I decided to take him and my girls down to the river to play._

_The girls loved the water; they squealed and giggled in delight the moment their little feet touched it- and once they’d calmed down a bit, I sat both of them in my lap by the shore: my knees sinking into the hard press of the river pebbles and slimy give of the silt, my threadbare veil floating on top of the water like a piece of rainbow that had fluttered down from the heavens, and let them slap and splash to their heart’s content._

_Cricket waded over to us, laughing as Xiaohui babbled and held out her little hands. He scooped her out of the water and twirled her about, much to her delight._

_"Spinning makes her dizzy," I warned- but of course, he didn’t listen._

_She spat_ up on _him._

_I laughed at his look of disgust._

_To his credit, he cleaned her off with a handful of clear water, and I wiped her grimacing mouth with the corner of my soaked skirt, handing her back to him with rolled eyes when she started whining at the_ loss _of her dearest friend._

_"She likes me," he declared smugly._

_"Good for you," I answered dryly, pulling down my tunic in order to let Chenlin feed; she was hungry, and a hungry baby meant a cross, loud, crying baby. My brother squawked and gagged, and I smirked as- hand over eyes- he pulled face after face at the sight of me breastfeeding my child. (Honestly, he was such a boy.)_

_"If it bothers you, don’t look," I told him, soothing Chenlin when she started to whimper. But, since he was a man (or almost one) I draped my veil over Chenlin’s tiny head to keep the sun off her- and to shut my idiot brother up from his moaning and groaning._

_Xiaohui thought the whole thing was quite funny, but after a_ while _I could see the water had chilled her, and now she wanted Ama._

_I reached my hand out to her. "Give her to me," I ordered._

_Xioahui was deposited into my arms, and she joined her sister for lunch._

_So while my daughters lay in my arms in the shade, I contented myself with watching my brother make a fool of himself- chasing minnows, diving for pebbles- all those silly little things we love to do as children. Unlike me, his skin was darkly browned from his time in the sun, and the stringy muscles that wrapped around his narrow bones made him seem like a colt in spring: gangly and full of the kind of bounding energy only the young seem to possess. But when he pushed back his soggy hair and grinned at me, and I felt as though I looked at Father as a boy._

_For some reason, it made me sad._

_But then he splashed some water my way, and I scolded him for bothering the girls while they tried to eat. (I scolded him, but I wasn’t truly angry,) and when he offered to take_ the _for a few minutes to let me swim, it was only seconds before I found myself floating on my back, ears muted with water, eyes staring at the sky and clouds as they drifted back and forth: upside-down and distorted by the river’s flow. Here, I could let my smile return and my scales unfurl._

_Here, I could be free._

_And even if I were beaten bloody for this, it would be worth it._

_It was always worth it._   
_…_

Morning came in the form of a blinding pick of light, stabbing me right in the eyes through the open, perfectly transparent glass windows.

I groaned.

What kind of moron makes a bedroom with windows that face due east?

With one hand I shielded my eyes, and with the other, I shoved myself out of the chair to lower the gauzy silk curtains to curb the harshness of the light.

Ghezen. Wylan’s family must have been obscenely rich.

“I hate the sun,” I grumbled, dropping unceremoniously into the chair. “God. This is worse than a hangover!”

Kaz’s back was turned to me.

I cracked my neck back against the wood and drummed my fingers against the arm of the chair, humming an old Kerch song my Gonggong used to sing for my Waipo.

I hummed and sang until I ran out of words. (In truth, I couldn’t remember the rest- Gonggong rarely got this far before Waipo told him to shut it.) Chuckling at the fond memory, I slurred my way through the rest of the song, making up the most ridiculous rhymes I could think of while chortling like a fool.

Ah, Saints. It had been too long since I had let myself have a little fun.

Kaz’s low voice interrupted my encore. “That was a song, once.” More than usual, it sounded like he had swallowed a bag of sawdust and sand when he spoke.

I cracked an eye open, unperturbed, and smirked. “Ah. Look who’s risen from the dead.” I closed my eyes and tipped my head against the chair. “When did you wake up?”

“About ten minutes before you started butchering that song.”

“I can sing, you know. I just don’t like to take myself too seriously.” I filled a glass of water with the pitcher and floated it to him without sparing him a glance. “Drink.”

He drank. Gulped, really. The water was gone in seconds. He pushed himself up. “How sick was I?”

“Sick enough you might not have made it through the night without me.” I replied smoothly. “Wylan more than you.”

“Is he alright?” he asked quickly, and then paused, as if he had made some grave error by asking about his friend.

I opened my eyes. “He’s fine, Kaz.”

He looked stiff and vaguely uncomfortable. “I don’t remember much from last night.”

I sat up and gave the briefest of summaries of last night. “I drained your lungs, brought your fever down, and let you sleep. Wylan was easy enough to heal. You, however, had to be held down so you didn’t kill anyone.”

His eyebrows went up.

“You’ll both be good as new within the week,” I finished. “Maybe even a few days.”

“That’s it.”

“Yes, actually.” I linked my fingers together like a puzzle and I went back to my rocking and humming. “You are, quite possibly, the worst patient I’ve ever had,” I added.

I might have imagined it, but I thought I glimpsed the tiniest bit of genuine friendship underneath his usual smirk, as if he was speaking to one of his Crows, and not his wife. “I’d believe it.”

I gave him a suspicious look. Was he making a joke? Or was he making fun of me?

Whatever it was, I didn’t smile in return.

I felt as that piercing gaze passed over me. Over the molten purples and blues that encircled my neck. The smirk dropped. “I hurt you.”

“Bruises fade,” I said flippantly. “This is nothing.”

“I’m sorry.”

I went still only for a moment before brushing off the first apology I’d ever heard from him. “Your words and actions were not in your control.”

He went unnaturally quiet at my last remark. Remembering.

I waited.

“I said some things last night,” he said abruptly, “and whatever it was, I hope it doesn’t leave this room.” A request and a warning.

I waved a hand even as my old bitterness welled in me like poison. “Your business is your own, as always,” I replied. “I’ll forget if you forget.”

He nodded once.

I raised my eyebrows at him. “What?”

His face was hollow and drawn, and the eyes that usually cut and twisted and sliced had less bite than usual. “You saved me.”

“You’re welcome,” I said smoothly.

“But you still hate me.” An observation: nothing more, nothing less.

I stopped rocking. “I don’t hate you.” The truth in that statement surprised me. I lifted myself out of the chair and swept out of the room. “Don’t try anything stupid,” I reminded him, “none of us profit from your death.”

The door shut with a snap, and we didn’t speak to each other to such an extent for a long time.


	12. Mourning (Year 3) Kaz

It was just a day like any other day. The day her daughter died. 

We were discussing the next order of business in our office went she went unnaturally still. Her hand leapt to something at her chest, and it was as if someone had snuffed all the life out of her in one merciless breath. The color drained from her face, leaving it milky white. She crumpled to the floor as her knees gave out. “No.” Her hands trembled and she shook her head hard, as if trying to wake up from a nightmare. “Bu. Bu. Bukeneng. Bukeneng.” Tears began hitting the floor like raindrops. Slowly, than faster and faster until it became a river that flowed down her cheeks and made tiny puddles at her knees. 

“What happened?” 

She lurched to her feet and staggered past me, teetering on wobbly legs towards the bedroom. It was like watching someone sleepwalking. 

“Mama?” Naj stared at her in confusion from around the corner. 

She flinched as if the words were the crack of a whip. 

He stepped closer. “Mama?”

“Please. Don’t call me…” her voice was brittle. The words faltered and died. Shaking fingers touched the brass. Turned the doorknob. Fell to her side as if they were lead. She slipped past the crack like a spirit. 

The door slid shut with a click. 

I heard the lock snap into place. 

Something shattered. 

That’s when the screaming started: a shrill, wailing shriek, garbled with sobs. It rose and swelled into an animal screech. Grief and misery in its purest form. 

Naj jumped about a foot at the sound. “Mama?” He pounded on the door, frantic. “Mama? Mama!”

The screams went dead. 

I pulled him away and made him face me. “Naj. You need to go to your room and stay there. Alright?” 

He nodded wordlessly and slipped away. 

I made my way to the door, freezing when I heard a sound slither through the crack: a knife sighing against its sheath. I picked the lock in seconds and forced my way in. 

Her head rose slowly, and an eerie calm came over her as our eyes met. In her hand lay a long, black knife, carved out of some sort of stone. It’s cruel blade flashed in the light. Lifting it up, she examined it like a surgeon preparing for an operation 

I tensed, waiting to see what she would do. Something in the way she looked at it was very, very wrong. I wondered if I’d have to knock her out to keep her from doing anything drastic. 

She unwound her bun so her long hair lay coiled down her back, glossy and thick. It fell all the way down her back, almost to her waist. I hadn’t realized how long it was. Her hand gathered her hair back in one tight fist, and it spilled down her figure like the darkest ink. In a few vicious strokes she used the blade to hack through it at the base of her neck. Hair fluttered down to the ground like feathers. Something about the soft, dry sawing sounds made me want to look away. The dark locks turned to dust in her hands and blew away on invisible winds. She stood, straight and silent as a soldier. 

Without a word she flipped the blade so it lay across her arm. 

“Don’t,” I warned. She looked about one slice away from slitting her wrists. I took a slow step towards her before I was stopped by her vacant look. 

“My child is dead,” she intoned stonily. “Do not interfere.” 

I pulled my hand back reluctantly. 

The blade sank through the soft flesh of her inner arm with a slick, dead noise. 

She didn’t take her eyes off the cut. It was deep, but not dangerously so. 

Red dripped down in silent rivulets. 

The blade fell again. 

And again. 

And again. 

Until rows of thin, gaping cuts ran across her arms like gills from a fish. 

The knife was finally lowered and her face smoothed over once again. She spoke in my general direction, devoid of life. “Do me a kindness, Kaz, and let me die.” 

Red splattered down. A new kind of rain. It ran down her arms and dripped at her feet. 

I stepped close and pulled the glistening knife away from her as carefully as I could. I needed to get someone to heal her. If she didn’t stop she’d bleed herself dry. 

Miraculously she didn’t fight me. I don’t think she was conscious enough to. She was a ship with a hole in its heart, sinking to the bottom of an ocean. She stared past me, blank faced, blood running down her arms in delicate crimson webs. The blood loss was making her sway. Her whole face was the grey of a corpse. But she couldn’t seem to feel anything. Nothing at all. 

Her eyes locked suddenly with mine, and it was like looking at an inferno. “Why does my innocent child die?” she snapped. 

“I don’t know,” I said quietly. 

Her fists clenched. “She was supposed to live!” Icy fury and endless pain choked her voice. Tears sparkled in her eyes, but her voice turned colder then ever. “Why are you even here?”

“To stop you from slitting your wrists,” I answered bluntly. 

“You did pay a small fortune for me, didn’t you?” she muttered darkly, flicking blood off her hands like it was water. “How good of you, looking after your House whore.” 

I felt a twinge of shame at my words she hurled at me. 

“Have you lost a child?” she asked abruptly.

“No. Naj was our first.” And only, I added silently. 

The fire died down a bit, and her chin wobbled imperceptibly. “This is the fourth.” 

I couldn’t imagine what it would feel like to lose Naj. 

But to have it happen four times…

There was an unnaturally stillness about her; for a moment, the sheer weight of her misery seemed to crash over her like waves against a cliff. But it passed in, and when she finally spoke, and her words were dark and bitter as coffee. “I was thirteen when I was married; thirteen and untouched and strong. A beauty, he called me. A breeder.” 

The ugly word hung in the air like a putrid piece of meat.

Breeder. Animal. Monster. 

I wondered what other names she had grown accustomed to. 

In one vicious swing she flung the bloodied knife across the room, where it buried itself to the hilt in the wall. She jerked around to face me, and now the floodgates opened, and words poured out of her like water. “Thirteen is too young to bear children, but my honored husband,” she chewed the words and spat them out, “was determined to sire a son from his child-bride, and, like the good wife I was, I gave him a son before the year was out.” She laughed flatly, and there was a brutal kind of flippancy in the sound. “A dead son- but a son nonetheless.”

I had no comfort to give her, for there was none.

She straightened her spine into an unforgiving line. The wooden mask fell back in place with a snap. “I know the Boer assignment needs to be done, and I’ll do it. I’ll tear his precious little salt kingdom apart. But only if you give me three days.” 

“To mourn?” 

“Three days she answered flatly. “It’s all I ask.” It was a request with menacing tone of a threat. But there was something defensive in the way she held herself. It was almost like she was preparing for my refusal- as if she was used to being refused even this small kindness. 

As if I’d deny her time to mourn her dead child. 

I nodded. I may be a monster, but that didn’t mean that I had to be monstrous. “You should clean and bandage those,” I gestured to her arms. “If the wounds fester you could lose both of your arms.”

She looked down at them. Sticky, clotted blood clung to them in thick ropes, and her whole face seemed devoid of color. “If I heal, I heal. If I don’t, I don’t.” 

I wanted to growl in frustration. This ritual- the cutting- it was mad. Reckless, archaic, useless. 

Lightning flashed in her eyes. “It is an honor to bear the pain.” 

“You could die from this.” 

Her eyes slid shut as her stuttering breaths dissolved into shuddering, heaving breaths that shook her whole frame. “Then I will see her.” The lines of tears dripped down her face and mixed with the blood on her arms. 

I stood to leave her in peace. 

Her eyes settled on me, and it was like I wasn’t even there. “Is this life?” she whispered. 

Was this life? Life meant death, and Dirtyhands was used to death. Life meant loss- the kind that takes everything that’s good away from you before you had the chance to have it. 

Was this life? 

Yes, this was life- at least, a part of it- but I didn’t say that. 

“I don’t know,” is what I told her instead. 

“If this is life, we must live in Hell.” Her deadened words fell into the empty air, and she clutched her arms around herself until blood oozed from the slashes. “Maybe it’s better that she’s dead.” 

We both ran out of words to say. 

I closed the door behind her and left her alone with her grief. 

…

She didn’t come out of her room for three days. 

No food, no water, no sleep. 

All she did was stare at nothing. 

Wylan and Jesper brought her soup Mrs. Hendriks had made. 

Nina changed her bandages. 

Naj wiped away her tears. 

And still, nothing. 

Even when he crawled into her lap and wrapped his arms around her, begging and pleading for her to wake up, she barely moved: her own child, and she had no idea who he was- she was so far gone. I lost my temper with her after witnessing that. Shouted at her. Told her she was scaring my son. Told her to fight. 

Nothing. 

Another man might have struck her, but that was something I would never do. 

And anyways: I don’t think she would have felt it. 

She sunk so deep into herself that nothing I or anyone else did could seem to snap her out of it. You have to want to live to live, and I suspected she had lost that want. 

For some strange reason, it infuriated me that she didn’t have the strength to live. But then, when I lost Inej, Naj was the only thing that had kept me going. Kept me fighting. 

When the three days were up, she dragged herself out of whatever dark place she had been buried, and she worked. She worked the same way a windup toy worked: empty, metallic, lifeless. The salt empire that had taken nearly a century to build and cost the lives of thousands of’ enslaved laborers was reduced to ruins with a wave of her hand. 

Days went by, and still she didn’t eat. 

Food seemed to sicken her. She drank a little tea with a crust of bread when I forced it on her, but the moment it hit her stomach she threw it back up. 

The fire in her became ashes, and we watched as she starved. 

Deals were made. People were paid off and people were saved. And when the deed was done and the sun went down, she returned to her room and promptly fell asleep. 

The fever that roared to life hours later made her so hot we could barely touch her without being burned ourselves.

It seemed when the Boer project was done and over with- when she finally stopped moving- the infection was all too willingly to step in. 

Nina and Wylan and Jesper all took turns caring for her; trying to keep the deep cuts on her arm clean and her fever down. Her arms became swollen; red climbed up them in threaded streaks, and I found that after years of conditioning and work, I could barely bring myself to look at them. I simply watched for any signs of change: good, or bad. 

She grabbed my arm one night, and it took every ounce of control I had not to shove her away out of instinct. “Please, sir,” she begged. “Please.” 

The kindest thing I could do was tell her that she was safe. That I wasn’t going to touch her or force her to do anything. 

She didn’t believe me. 

I laid her back after seeing her arms begin to split open and bleed. 

Her pupils swallowed the gold irises as she felt her back hit the bed. 

Panic and disgust made gave her the strength to shove me off- and thanks to her, I almost ended up putting a hole through the wall. 

Sometimes I forgot how strong she was. 

I left the room, fast, because I knew what she thought I was there for. 

Naj slipped in without me noticing, and I watched as he spoke to her with the voice of a much older child, giving her comfort no one else could. The panic receded, flared weakly, and disappeared, because she believed him when he told her that everything would be alright- that she wasn’t going to be hurt anymore. 

All the fear seeped from her as she succumbed to sleep. 

And finally- finally- she began to heal. 

But she didn’t wake up. 

I stayed with Naj and reassured him his mother was fine- that now the wounds had drained and the fever was lessening, she’d get better. 

It was the first time I’d lied to my son. 

You have to want to live to live. No matter how hard you try, or how much you do, you can’t make someone want that. They have to want it for themselves. 

So we waited. 

And when she opened her eyes, we were there. 

Naj launched himself at her with a happy shout, and I had to practically peel him off of her- he was hugging her so hard. 

She hugged him back just as fiercely and kissed him on the top of his head. Her eyes slid down, and when they fell upon my son, the blazing gold turned soft and warm as honey, and she smiled; smiled like he was the only person in the whole world she saw. It was an honest, tender look that illuminated her whole face from within. 

I felt something inside me loosen and crack at that smile. It had the same effect as looking directly into the sun; it hurt to look at something so bright. So like her.

I had seen Inej in my fever. And Jordie. But not Meiyu. 

Meiyu didn’t exist in my dreams. 

Still, despite her eye-rolling and thinly veiled sarcasm, she had been kind. She didn’t have to stay with me- she had done her job, so there was little incentive for her to do anything more- but she did. She stayed, all night. I he was kinder than she had ever allowed herself to be. And when I woke, and the dark disappeared, her smirk returned; cold and biting as winter. Indifference was her armor against me. 

She called herself a ghost. She expected only cruelty.

I had honored that expectation daily. 

And yet, when I called her Inej, she had spoken to me only with compassion and truth. Even though I had hurt her. I didn’t understand the backwardness of such kindness. Still, I found that myself drawn to it: like I once was with Inej. It’s a dangerous thing to submit to. 

Dangerous and stupid. 

And yet, the best plans always were just that.


	13. Day of Souls (Kaz-Year 4)

She stood silhouetted against the morning sun, slowly wrapping layer after layer of fine Shu silk around her body so that it lay in intricate pleats and folds. The scars on her arms rose in sharp gashes along her forearms, and from a distance, they looked almost ornamental- in a brutal, primitive sort of way. 

The ends of her hair still curled haphazardly at the base of her neck, and she tucked it behind a white veil that framed her face and fell almost to her knees; the material was so fine that it looked like frosted glass against her jet-black hair. 

It never failed to piss people off, that veil. 

(People knew better than to do anything more than sneer thinly at the white fabric covering her head; for the life of me, I would never understand how a simple length of fabric managed to attract more hatred, fear, and disgust than her reputation as an Shu assassin. I didn’t particularly like it- but it was her choice. She’d told me herself: her veil was my gloves. So as long as she continued working, I couldn’t care less what she wore. 

Of course, the Dregs made sure to respect her wished; the last man who had tried to touch it lost half his hand to her, so they never mentioned it again. 

Needless to say, he doesn’t work for me anymore. 

Naj sat on a chair, feet swinging as he watched her pin her veil in place. He yawned hugely. “Morning, Da!” 

I allowed myself a small smile. “You’re up early.” 

He gave a tiny shrug, and it was so like Inej, for a moment, I couldn’t breath. “I couldn’t sleep. And I was bored.”

I reclined against the doorframe. “Why so formal?” 

She didn’t look up. “I wanted to look my best for Linghun Ri.” 

“Soul day?” Naj translated, confused. 

Her lips pulled up in an echo of a smile. “Ah, in Kerch, Linghun Ri is more like…  
Day of Souls.”

“Day of Souls,” Naj repeated solemnly. “That sounds like Remembrance Day here in Kerch.” 

I nodded. “It’s a lot like that, Naj.” 

“Do we ever celebrate Remembrance Day, Da?” he asked innocently. 

A dull pain stabbed my chest. “No.” 

Meiyu looked between us, here eyes sad. “I used to celebrate both when I was a girl.” 

Naj brightened. “You did?” 

“Dui.” Her laugh was soft and wistful. “My Gonggong celebrated Remembrance Day every winter, and my Waipo celebrated Linghun Ri every spring.” 

I glanced at her. It was rare for her to talk about her childhood around me. 

Naj started playing with one of her hairpins. “What’s it like, Ama?” 

“Linghun Ri is a very special day of the year, xingan. There’s music and dancing and feasting-”

He perked up. “Feasting?”

I hid my smile. So did she. “Yes. The food is very important.” 

Naj was constantly thinking with his stomach, and Meiyu, ever indulgent, spoiled him with dish after dish of Shu food in exchange for a smile. It was a good trade. 

“And when the sun goes down, we light denglong- lanterns- and speak their names out loud. We name them, so they know they are not forgotten, and we give them light, so they can find their way back to us.” 

“They come back? All the way from Heaven?” 

She was careful to avoid my stare. “That is what I believe.” 

His brows scrunched together, deep in thought. “Does everyone come back? Because that would be a lot of people for you,” he said seriously. 

Meiyu’s fingers froze. 

My son chatted on, oblivious to the emptiness in her eyes. “It would take forever to have to say all those names, and you’d have to light, like, a hundred lanterns!” 

I tapped his chair with my cane.

He looked up fast enough to glimpse her blank expression. “Oh…” He fidgeted, guilty. I could see the wheels in his head turning, trying to think of something to make her happy again. Face still with concentration, he took a few seconds to carefully bend her soft steel pin into a lopsided heart. “Ama?”

She peered down at him. “Yes?”

He presented her the heart-shaped squiggle with all the pride of a six year old. “For you,” he said, holding it so close to her face she was practically cross-eyed.

“Naj, give her some space!” I corrected gently. 

“Oh. Sorry!” The heart retreated, and Naj placed it gingerly in her hand so she could see it properly. “Do you like it?” 

For the first time in a month, she smiled in full. “Yes.” 

“Look! It’s one of your pins! I made it into a heart!” he declared. His face fell a fraction. “I’m sorry it’s shaped funny,” he added. 

“No.” She bent down and hugged him tightly. “No.” 

He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her on the cheek. 

It might have been heartfelt if it wasn’t so slobbery.

She jerked back, surprise and disgust on her face as she wiped it off. “Naj!” Her hand shot out to grab him, and he leapt away with glee, giggling uproarisly. 

He staggered back just close enough to get a hold of him and pull him to me. 

“Naj! Stop doing that! It’s disgusting.” I made him look at me. “Alright?” 

His giggles only multiplied, and he grinned as everything coming out of my mouth flew up and over his head. 

“Alright?” I repeated. 

“Alright,” he sang. 

I watched in exasperation as his legs folded underneath him and he slid to the floor like a ragdoll, heaving with laughter. I fought down a twinge of irritation as I bent over him, frowning. 

But when I stared into Inej’s eyes, I was lost. 

“Hi Da!” he whispered. 

I heaved a sigh. “Hello.” I gave him the sternest look I could muster. “Now. Sit up straight and stop fooling around.” 

“Ah…” He thought for a second, eyes sparkling. “Why?” 

“Naj!”

Gales of laughter erupted from him.

“You’ve lost him, Kaz,” Meiyu said tiredly from her spot near the window. 

I barely suppressed my growl. Inej and I never dreamed we would ever have children; yet, life happened, and here I was, blessed with a son whose ears could have been made from stone. “Nadir!” I barked. “I’m running out of patience.”

Meiyu let out a noise of exasperation. 

Naj stopped laughing, his eyes going wide. “Uh oh.” 

I heard a rumble behind me and turned, heart shooting into my throat when I saw what was behind me.

My cane almost slipped out of my hands as I jerked back with an oath. 

Dragons didn’t exist in Ketterdam; it was too real, here; too stark. 

And yet, here stood a dragon of old. 

It was regal in a savage, almost-cruel way: covered from head to toe in thick, glossy black scales streaked in amber and gold in a layer of armor ten times lighter and more efficient than the finest bulletproof armor. Horns rose sharp as thorns: ivory branches that put even the most precious Zemeni ivory to shame. Talons, six inches from root to tip, dug into the floor, and their icepick-points could have gutted a man as easily as a pig on a spit. 

The dragon arched its neck and barked, pulling its head inwards as the horns scraped along the ceiling and gouged faint lines into the wood. A body and tail unfurled to run along the perimeter of the room, spilling out the door in a stream of black. The tail moved like a drowsy snake, rasping against the floor, and she yawned widely, unsheathing a whole collection of gleaming bone daggers. A tongue unraveled, curled up, and retreated back into the endless mouth. 

It raised a paw and scratched itself with a few talons. 

When it shook like a dog to resettle the ruffled scales, it sounded as if the thinnest plates of silver were being rattled and jostled and tapped together- like wind chimes on a stormy day. 

The old ones pulled away and fell to the floor with the sound of falling coins as it itched itself again with its long claws. 

A few more pulled free and rained down with a soft clink. 

“Ooh! Scales!” 

I was snapped out of my mindless session of staring as Naj lost all his previous fear and scurried over to collect the shed scales like they were shells on the beach. 

The dragon’s head whipped around and it growled once in warning. 

His hand froze in midair, and he grinned hopefully. “Just a few?” he begged. “Please?” 

It growled again, sharp and final. 

Downcast, Naj let go of the scales. “I was just starting a collection,” he whined, gazing with longing at the shimmering scales. 

The beast rolled its eyes, reaching its tail over to poke Naj in the side. 

And that’s when I saw her- that’s when I saw the mind inside the creature; the soul behind the eyes. “Meiyu?” 

She nodded. 

I blinked. “Is this… what you naturally look like?” 

Another nod. 

“Can you speak?” 

She made a dragon’s equivalent of a shrug. A talon pointed to her, and the growls and hisses had the rhythm and flow of a language born from fire and stone. “M’yanu,” she rumbled. Her name. She pointed at me, and these sounds were different. Shorter. “Kah-sss,” she hissed. Kaz. 

“What about me, Ama?” Naj piper up cheerfully.

She heaved a mighty sigh of defeat. “Na-ji,” she grunted. It must have been an affectionate variation of his name, because she seemed to smile as she said it. 

A dragon stands before me, I thought blankly, a living, breathing, talking dragon, which not only works for me, but also happens to be my wife. 

It was too absurd to be true. 

After a moment, her eyebrows went up, and I realized I was staring like a fool. 

I regained my composure. 

She did a dragon’s imitation of a smirk, lips curling up to expose the long canines. Her tongue flicked out like a snake, and she twisted her neck up and around, licking along her scales until they gleamed like polished stone. 

Naj began to giggle again, imitating her, but he went silent as the grave when Meiyu’s eyes slid to him. He shrunk under her stern gaze as a guilty smile spread across his face. “Hello…” 

She lumbered over, talons clicking against the hard wood floor to crane her neck over my son. 

His silly smile widened and he gingerly wrapped his arms around her in a hug. “Are you mad at me, Ama?” 

Meiyu chuffed, peering down her muzzle at him with clear exasperation. 

A few nervous giggles escaped him. 

I was surprised how human she could seem in this form. 

Her teeth flashed and she bent over and hoisted him up the scruff of his shirt like a kitten, letting him dangle there like a fish on a hook, much to my alarm. 

“Is that safe?” I asked incredulously. 

Mouth full, she scowled at me. 

Naj’s feet swung in midair. “Don’t worry Da.” He looked glum. “She does this when I’m in trouble.” 

“…Ah.”

Tail rasping against the ground, Meiyu walked him gracefully back up to his bedroom, body winding and coiling in loops as she navigated the narrow staircase. Dust shook from the ceiling with each step she took. 

I watched my son be carried away to him room by a Shu dragon, wondering how my life had gotten to this point. 

Not too long after I heard the telltale thump as Naj was dropped onto his bed to calm down, and the door was shut with a crisp snap. 

The shuddering footsteps turned light, and a minute later Meiyu rounded the corner-human again- wrapped in a light robe that was in severe danger of sliding off. “That child,” she murmured, shoving her hair off her forehead, “is strung higher than a kite today.” 

The robe shifted with her chaotic movements, and I tried my best not to look at her long, muscular, bare legs, which slid out of the fabric’s fold in the most revealing of ways. But when I avoided her legs, my eyes traveled up, which was much worse. 

I bent down and picked up her clothes, offering them to her. “You need these.”

She looked up, hands buried in her the tangled mass of her hair. “Oh.” In three strides she took the clothes from me. “Thank you.” She began to strip her robe off with careless efficiency, and even I fought to keep my face neutral. 

Irritated and more than a little uncomfortable, I hurriedly shifted my eyes far, far away. “Do you have to do that?” I asked stiffly. 

She chuckled low in her chest. “I’m not trying to seduce you.” The robe fell to the ground, and I only caught a glimpse of the mangled scars on her back before she pulled on a thin cotton shift. “A body is just skin and muscle. Nothing to see.”

I grit my teeth even as my ears burned. “Are you done?” 

Her teeth flashed in a vicious smile. “About.” 

“Good.” I relaxed and looked at her pleased expression, irritated. “What?” 

There was something jaded in the way she laughed. “It’s nice, you know: to have a man who doesn’t want to look.” 

My irritation faltered. “I’d prefer if you’d keep your clothes on.” 

She shrugged, now fully clothed. “You wash yourself in front of me.” 

“That’s not the same,” I snapped. 

Her sarcasm cut like a dull knife. “You’re truly astounding, Kaz Brekker.” 

I decided not to answer that. 

She tucked her veil into her hair and draped the rest around her shoulders. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some lanterns to buy.” Her head tipped up. “Naj, you can come down in a few minutes once you’ve calmed down. I’ll be back soon, Love.” 

“I’m calm now!” he exclaimed hopefully. 

I snorted under my breath. 

“Listen to your father, xingan!” She slipped through the door and ducked back around, as if gathering her courage. “I’m… buying lanterns,” she repeated softly. “Two, for me.”

“Yes?” 

Her fingers twitched around the doorframe. “Should I buy any more?” 

I knew exactly what she was choosing not to say. 

“No.” 

A wry kind of humor tempered her gaze. “When do I ever listen to you, Kaz?” 

The silk of her robe disappeared before I could even begin to feel annoyed. 

… 

The sun set in a blaze of gold, lining the clouds in a blinding rim of white. 

Meiyu took Naj’s hand and walked with him to the edge of the docks that faced due west. “Come. We must meet the our loved ones as they come from Heaven.” 

The sun began to sink under the horizon, turning the open sky from burnished gold to brilliant reds and oranges that faded to blues and purples. Trails of clouds captured the last of the last remnants of the dying light. 

“Look.” Meiyu pointed out to the farthest edge of the water where the sun sank and disappeared into the deep blue waters. “It is time.” She pressed a small box of matches into my son’s hands. “You can light it for me, alright?” 

Naj nodded wordlessly. With tremendous care, he selected a single match and struck it along the side, tipping it upwards so it the fire climbed up the wood instead of towards his fingers. Just like I’d taught him. 

The flame rose and glowed.

Meiyu held the red paper lantern close, waiting. 

Naj held it against the cotton and watched, wide eyed, as it lit and dimmed, glowing. 

“So we don’t burn any houses down,” she explained wryly. 

Heat rippled off in invisible waves. It smelled of incense: sweet ashes and spiced perfume. The light flickered and pulsed, illuminating the delicate paper from within. 

“What do we do now, Ama?” 

“Now, we pray.” Her long robes spread out from her like water as she knelt. Naj sat next to her as she bowed her head over clasped hands. “O my brother, bless us this day,” she whispered. Her hands curled around the winding line of smoke that rose from the lantern, pulling it close, touching her fingers to her forehead, before repeating the movements again. “Remember us as we remember you. I name you Yongliang to preserve your light.” 

Naj watched her carefully, bowing his head too. 

“May you feel neither pain, nor fear, nor sadness.” Her eyes were dark. “May you never know the pain of hunger, nor the misery of war. May you breathe free and laugh loud. May you look upon your sister and her family with love and mercy alike.” 

The second lantern was lit and set next to the first. 

“O my daughter, bless us this day.” Her voice didn’t falter. “Remember us as we remember you. I name you Xiaohui to preserve your light.” The glow of the lantern reflected off her eyes. “May you feel neither pain, nor fear, nor sadness. May you be happy with your brother and sister.” Her words faltered, but the glassiness of her eyes did not fall. “May you look upon your mother and her family with love and mercy alike.” 

She looked over at Naj, who produced the third lantern. 

The one for me. 

“I do not know your name, but I beg you: bless us this day.” She didn’t look at me. “Remember us as we remember you.” 

I spoke his name in my mind: Jordie. Jordie Rietvald. 

Her voice had fallen to a murmur. “May you feel neither pain, nor fear, nor sadness. May you know only peace and happiness in the world beyond this. May you look upon your brother and his son with love and mercy alike.” She smiled faintly. “And me. Your sister by marriage.” 

She rose to her feet with Naj: two lanterns in her hands, one in his. 

People lined the shore, each holding their own lanterns. 

Facing east. 

They knelt down and set them in the water. They pushed them off and watched them be carried away by the current: back East. Back home, to Shu Han. 

Meiyu brushed a hand over Naj’s shoulder. “Keep yours, xingan. He belongs here.” She walked alone to the water’s edge and set her lanterns in the water. “Safe travels,” she breathed, pushing them out so they were carried by the waves. 

The warm glow faded from her face as the small red boxes bobbed farther and farther away to be lost in the masses. 

Naj held onto Jordie’s lantern like it was made of glass. “Do we go home, Ama?” 

Her eyes were riveted on the two lanterns. “Yes.” She sounded far away. 

Naj gently took her hand and tugged it. “Let’s go home.” 

“Home?” Confusion clouded her face. “Home’s gone.” Little by little we watched as reality collapsed for her like a house of cards. It drifted away from her like the lanterns.

“Da-“ 

“Home is gone, but they didn’t die.” She spoke to herself like she couldn’t hear him. “They were alive- I saw them…” Her head nodded in agreement until her eyes were drawn back to the lantern in Naj’s hand. Then across the waters to the two she had cast off. Something shifted inside her mind: a picture frame that was just crooked enough to cause discontent. “They’re alive,” she said again, unsure. Her head swung back to me, then down to Naj, painfully hopeful. “Aren’t they?” 

I pulled him around me so I stood between them. “One is.” 

The smile cracked and broke. “One?” she breathed. 

Naj stepped around me to take her hands. “Xiaohui… went to Heaven, Ama.” 

She stared down at him, unable to comprehend what she heard. “Xiaohui zuole?” 

He nodded. 

I turned him towards me. “I’ll talk to her.” 

Without argument he walked over to the edge of the docks and sat down with his lantern, stealing worried looks over his shoulder every once in a while. 

“I don’t understand.” 

I straightened. 

“She died?” Tears streaked her face. 

“Last year, Meiyu. You don’t remember because you’re having a flashback.” 

“I don’t…” She shook her head hard. “I don’t understand.” Her eyes swept along the city. The crowded buildings. The ships docked in the harbor. Nothing was familiar. 

“I don’t understand.” Each breath was sucked in and expelled in shallow, frantic pants: the beginnings of hyperventilation. “I…”

“Meiyu, do you know who I am?” 

Her head turned, and she stared at me without a glimmer of recognition. “Where…am…I?” She said lowly. The black pupils engulfed the gold irises as the water running from them turned black as her magic began sloughing off her. “Where…” 

I stepped around so I blocked her tunneling vision. 

Some buried part of her flinched when she heard my cane rap smartly against the soft wood of the docks. “Ketterdam, Meiyu. You’re in Ketterdam, not Shu Han.” 

“Ketterdam,” she murmured. The magic pulsed underneath her blackening eyes like a warning. 

“Yes.”

“I came here, on a ship?...” 

“Yes.” 

Suspicion made her guarded. “I belong to you?” 

“You belong to yourself.” 

A hollow vacancy began to creep through her once more, sullying what little clarity she had regained. “Men lie,” she said. “All of you lie.” 

“I lie about a lot of things, but not this.” 

Her mouth turned down as she regarded me. “I believe you,” she decided. “Strange.”

I held onto that spark to keep her present. “You also call me a chronic liar.” 

“I do, don’t I?” The black was receding now. “At least you’re honest about your lying ways,” she mumbled. Awareness began to filter back through her. She blinked, slowly, like a person waking up from a troubling dream. 

“Welcome back, Meiyu,” I finished dryly. 

She rubbed her forehead. “How long this time?” 

“Just a few minutes.”

Naj waved from his spot near the water. “Nihao, Ama!”

Her eyes cleared when she saw him. “Nihao Naji.” To me she offered up a tight, uncomfortable smile. “I’m sorry that you have to keep reeling me back. I must seem completely mad.” 

“More confused, if anything. You ask a lot of questions.” 

“Did I recognize you?”

“No.” 

She sighed. “Do you have a pen, or something to write with?” 

“Why in the world would I be carrying a pen here?” 

“You could just say no,” she grumbled. She pushed her sleeve up and flipped her arm so the scarred skin was exposed. Wisps of her magic coiled around them, darkening into lines, which joined to form finely written words in her neat, swooping scrawl. 

Kaz Brekker. 

Naj Brekker. 

Wylan Hendriks.

Jesper Fahey. 

Nina Zenik.

Trust them. 

The magic faded and left dark black stains behind. A tattoo of sorts. 

“That’s going to make it very easy to recognize you.” 

“I’m not worried.” She shoved her sleeve down. “It will only appear when I’m having a flashback. If I forget, introduce yourself. I’ll know my own handwriting.” 

“Hi Ama,” Naj chirped. 

She smiled at him and walked over to his spot. “Hello.” 

“You’re back?” 

“Yes.” Her smile dimmed. “I’m sorry for leaving.” 

“It’s okay. You don’t mean to.” His feet dangled over the water and he shuffled over to prop his head on her shoulder. 

She pressed a kiss on the top of his head. 

He yawned.

Her fingers stroked through his feathery hair as she hummed an old Kerch song. 

Naj nodded off in minutes. 

“Help me,” she whispered. “I don’t want to wake him.” 

I limped over and scooped him up. 

His eyes fluttered but he stayed sound asleep. 

Meiyu picked up the lantern and pushed herself up with a small groan. “We’ve stayed here long enough.” Dark circles shadowed her eyes. 

We walked home with full arms: me with my son, her with the lantern. 

She didn’t look back.   
…

She spent the rest of the night in her room with a full glass of wine and a small book, glancing ever so often at the lantern to see if it still burned. Restless, she tossed the book aside and peered down at the bottle in disappointment. “Don’t you have anything stronger?” 

“You shouldn’t drink so much.” 

“Ach- I’m Cursemaker. It takes a lot for us to get drunk.” She poured two fingers of wine into the battered glass and snapped her fingers. The cloudy red became clear as water. “There we go!” She turned about in her chair and faced me with a lazy, reckless smile- not unlike Jesper when he used to sneak off to the tables only to lose and lose and lose. “Care to join me?” 

“I don’t drink.” 

“You live in Ketterdam, and you don’t drink?” she snorted, just barely slurring. “What the hell’s wrong with you?” 

“Alcohol makes you stupid in a way I can’t afford to be.” 

“Well then, it’s a good thing I’m not you!” She downed her drink in one swallow and poured herself another, determined as ever. 

“You really should stop Meiyu.” 

“I will, I will. Ghezen. I feel like I’m talking to my mother.” A chuckle rasped deep in her chest, and I heard the dragon inside. “Dearest Mother. Always running from the pain.” 

I swished the wine in the bottle. “You’re going to regret this in the morning.” 

“Oh, I will- but will that stop me?” She took a sip of her drink, her eyes bloodshot and furious. “Do you know why I like you, Kaz Brekker?” she said suddenly. 

“Because I’m rich?” 

She laughed again. “I like you, because you understand that love makes us weak.” 

“Does it?”

“Oh yes,” she grinned. 

Down went the liquor. 

“You see,” she said when she resurfaced, “I had a brother, once.” Her eyes were cloudy with drink and memory. “My mother could barely manage to take care of herself, so I took care of him. I fed him; clothed him, kept him breathing. I was more his mother than his sister, really.” She fingered the glass, frowning. “I loved him,” she murmured, “even though I didn’t want to.”

The silence expanded out. 

She shrugged. “Too bad he’s dead.” 

Her laughter sliced through the quiet, and she finished off her glass with a careless flick. 

“Meiyu.”

“Hm?” The dragon’s stare snapped back into focus. “Oh. I’m drunk, aren’t I?” 

“You’re getting there.” 

“Bie’danxin- I’m almost done...” Her fingers wrapped around the glass as she toasted it up to the sky. “Ganbei.” Smiling with feral pleasure, she gave her dead husband the middle finger and crooned, “May you rot in hell with the rest of us.” The liquor went down with a sharp jerk of her head and the glass was snapped onto the table. 

I took the bottle of wine away from her before she could have any more. “He’s long gone, Meiyu. Don’t waste your time remembering him.” 

She waved me off good-naturedly, only responding with, “You have yours, I have mine.” 

By dawn I found her asleep with the book on the floor and the wine mysteriously returned to her side. The book I placed back on the table. The wine I corked. It didn’t make much of a difference, though, since most of it was gone anyways. 

Her eyes flew open at the sound of me in her room. Caught off guard, she shot out of the chair, straight-backed and unsmiling. “How long did you buy me for?” she asked brusquely. 

“I didn’t buy you.” I nodded to her arm. “You know me.”

She stared at the message that bloomed across her arm. “Kaz. Kaz Brekker.”

“I’m not here to hurt you.” 

She jerked her chin at my cane. “Put that away.” A bald order, and a warning. 

Not willing to lock horns with a cornered dragon, I placed it in the farthest corner of the room and lowered myself down on her bed. 

Her breathing slowed. “A businessman.” Her head tilted. “Here for work, or pleasure?”

“Neither.” 

“Ha! You Kerch are full of shit,” she muttered in Shu. 

“Are you always this way to your clients?” I asked mildly. 

“Of course not!” She sounded almost offended. “You’re not a client. If you were, we wouldn’t be talking.” 

I couldn’t argue with that. 

She squinted at me. “Are you trying to be kind?”

“I’m don’t waste time being kind.” 

A vicious grin made her teeth flash white. “Good.” 

I almost smiled. 

She reclined in her chair, relaxed but still wary. “…Are we friends, then?”

I smirked at the simplicity of that statement. “It’s a little more complicated then that.” 

Her eyebrows went up. “Oh?” 

“You don’t like me very much.” 

“But I trust you.” 

“Yes.” 

“Kaz Brekker…” she read. “Is that even your real name?” 

“Not exactly.” 

“So you’re a liar.” 

“I didn’t say that.”

She smiled at me as if I was the biggest fool in the Barrel. “Let me tell you a House Whore’s secret, Kaz Brekker: everyone lies, even when they think they’re telling the truth.”

“That’s true enough.” 

Her eyes narrowed. “If I trust you, prove it.” 

She’d kill me if I didn’t, so I nodded towards the lantern. “That’s for my brother. You bought it even though I didn’t want you to. You prayed for his soul for me because I couldn’t.” 

The cold fire in her eyes guttered out. “Did you…forget him?” 

“No.” 

“Oh.” Her eyes darted around the room: making note of escape routes. They never landed on me. “Then maybe you should …” Her hands fiddled with the material of in her skirt, and I saw how the fabric had grown soft and faded from the continuous wear. “Remembering only hurts.” 

I had a feeling that these lessons had kept her alive. 

“You remind me of someone,” she said suddenly, picking at a stray thread. When I didn’t respond, her head twitched to the side, as if shaking off a fly. “So many men are cruel,” she continued flatly, eyes glued to the loosening thread. “But he was kind.” 

The picking escalated. 

“He was kind...” 

I stretched my bad leg out and ignored the ache. 

Her hands loosened and fell away, and she turned to me, head held high in defiance. “Do you think I’m mad?” 

“No.” 

“But I am.” Her smile was cold. “Anyone would go mad if they lived here.” 

“Where is here?”

The smile faded. “The House,” she whispered. Her expression was gaunt and chilled. 

“The House is gone. You destroyed it.” 

She paused, suspicious. “Why are you still talking to me?” she snapped. “Men don’t pay to talk.” The coldness flared up again. “I need to make my quota. I can get you off, you can fuck me, or you can leave. Otherwise, you’re a waste of my time.” 

I rested my arms on my knees. “I’m your husband, Meiyu.” 

Her eyes flashed. “My husband,” she sneered, “is dead.” 

“Fine: then I’m your second husband.” 

She noticed our rings, and I could see that it hit her- slowly. “You are, aren’t you?” 

“Yes.” 

“Oh…I’m sorry,” she said earnestly. 

I barked out a laugh at that. “Why?” 

“I know I’m not…right in the head. I’m not even a good Penny.” She smirked. “Men say my scars are disgusting to look at, but who cares? They’re not fucking my scars, are they?” 

The easy way she described being raped made me want to burn the House down myself. But all I said was, “Looks matter very little in our line of work.” 

Naked surprise made her gape. “You’re a prostitute, too?” When she saw my face, she quickly elaborated, saying, “You’re quite handsome. If you didn’t talk, you could make a lot of money.“ 

She was being completely serious, and it was a struggle not to react. 

In any way. 

“You work here,” I said instead. “In Ketterdam. With me.”

“And does that ‘work’ involve beds?” she asked dryly. 

“No.” I sat back and folded my hands over the crow’s head. “You’re a hired mercenary; the strongest Cursemaker alive. And a mother to my son.” 

“I have a son?”

“His name is Naj. He loves you, and you love him,” I added blandly, because it was the truth: nothing more, nothing less. 

“Naj,” she said. A tentative smile bloomed across her face, and it made her look young in a way she rarely let herself be. Her fingers traced the glowing script on her arm, and the smile faded into nothing. “I must forget very often.”

“Everyone has something.” 

“Yes, but most people aren’t...” She gestured at herself, and the thing that seemed so backwards about it was the fact that she wasn’t ashamed- just accepting. Accepting of the fact that she was “ruined”. 

It pissed me off in a way only she managed. 

“You think I care about that?” I asked shortly. 

She shrugged, almost embarrassed. “I don’t know what you think! I’m just sorry you got stuck with something like me,” she said matter-of-fact. 

“I chose to be stuck with you,” I told her honestly. 

“Is that true, or are you just saying that to make me feel better?”

“Both.”

“Ah.” The flatness in her eyes winked out. “Hello Kaz.”

I polished my cane on the edge of my coat. “That took a while.” 

“How long this time?” 

I checked my watch. “You were out since half past six. It’s almost seven.” 

“You stayed? All this time?” 

“I’d have thought that would be obvious since I’m here.” 

Her smile could have kept that lantern burning for years. 

I still found it hard to look at. “I have to go.” I shrugged on my coat and reached for my cane. “I have business to attend to, and I’m late.” 

She wrapped her magic around it and tossed it back to me. “I didn’t mean to waste so much of your time. It won’t happen again.” 

“Good.” 

“You didn’t have to stay, you know.” Her voice was carefully neutral and a touch sarcastic. “It’s not like I enjoy being like this.” 

I pushed myself upright and walked to the door. “You’re not insane, Meiyu.” 

“Just…” She yawned. “Broken.” 

“I’m leaving for Noordwick-“

“Noordwick?” She rose to her feet unsteadily. “So far?” 

“I’ll be back by the end of the week.” There had been rumors of the Wraith. Whispers. And I had some questions I needed answering. “You know what to do.” 

“You’re going by yourself?” 

“I don’t need anyone else.” 

“Is that wise?”

“Probably not, but I haven’t gotten to where I am by being wise.” 

“Kaz-“

“You have your business. I have mine.” 

Whatever part of her that had begun to reach out quickly retracted. “I understand.” 

I tipped my head. “No mourners.”

“No funerals,” she whispered. 

The door closed with a snap. 


	14. Letters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Meiyu's learning how to spell :)

Kaz, 

I hope you are good in Noordwick. I did not expect you to be gone so long, but you may be happy to hear that the Dregs have been better, though some of the men find being overseen by a forin woman deeply… ofensive? (Eh. I'm trying.) No matter: I can hold my own. Still, I’m tired of their pettyness, but what can you expect when you leave your city for so long with only a woman to stand in your place?

No mourners, 

Meiyu

P.S. As you can see, Naj has been helping me with my spelling. We’re both fine.  
…

Meiyu, 

As Leader of the Dregs, I give you full right to kick whoever’s ass you need to. All I ask is you keep them in one piece- and by one piece I mean no killing, no maiming, and no Curses; from what I’ve heard, I might be running out of men thanks to you. Believe me, I won’t be long. 

No funerals, 

-Kaz  
…

Kaz, 

I do not know what you have heard, but I have not been treating those men any worse than what they diserve; a problem must be solved with proper severity before it becomes serious. (And yes, I did have to ask how to spell ‘severity’ along with ‘serious.’) I hope you come home soon; your son misses you, and you are needed very much.

-Meiyu  
…

Kaz:

I know you have been ignoring my letters, so I will only say this: you have been gone too long. The Dregs are demanding for your return, and they are not happy. I am sorry, but you must come home. Your Crows need a leader, and your son needs his father. 

-Meiyu  
…

Tell Naj I’ll be back the day after tomorrow. 

I promise. 

-Kaz


	15. Another Wedding

“I have an idea…” I drummed my fingers on my leg and hummed distantly as I thought. 

No answer. 

“It’s a good one,” I hedged. 

Kaz continued to write at his desk, ignoring me completely. 

Never in a good mood, that man. 

I suppose it was good that he never loved me; the past few weeks had been spent futilely chasing a dead trail to find Inej, and we were all feeling the affects. (So you see? He was constantly leaving me for another woman. Love would have made it an enormous mess.) 

My foot tapped a senseless rhythm as I turned my idea over and over in my head. “How hard was it to get a marriage license- a real, legal one?” 

He didn’t look up. “Thinking about eloping with another man? I wouldn’t object.”

“Neither would I,” I replied smoothly. 

He wrote on, pen scratching away like he had a hundred better things to do than listen to me and my annoying prattle. 

“Well? How hard would it be?” 

“Easy enough.”

“That’s not a clear answer.”

“Meiyu. I have much more important things to do than cater to your useless questions, and frankly, I couldn’t care less. Figure it out yourself.” 

Ah, yes. If Kaz Brekker were a plant, he’d be a- what do you call it?- a cactus. Yes, that’s it: a cactus, with spines a foot long and acid instead of sap. 

I shrugged and got to my feet, stretching. “You only have so many friends, you know,” I said, and left him to stew in his bitter disappointment. 

Figure it out yourself, he had told me. 

So that’s what I did…  
…

I knocked on Wylan’s and Jesper’s door two days later. 

“It’s Meiyu!” I yelled. “I have something I need to drop off!”

“Just a moment!” Wylan’s voice carried through the solid door. 

I smiled as his ruddy curls appeared through the small side windows next to the door. “Hurry up, then!” I said, grinning fully now. 

The door opened. “Meiyu! How are you?” 

“Hao, hao, thank you! Is Jesper home?” 

“I’m here, I’m here…” he clattered over. “What business, Meiyu?”

I practically bounced with excitement, trying and failing not to give in to the obscenely pleased smile that was tugging at my lips. “This is for both of you.” I produced a single, lovely piece of pressed velum paper and held it out to them. “For your anniversary!”

Wylan turned pink. “You didn’t have to give us anything, Meiyu.”

I waved him away. “Bu, bu, shi lipin!”

Jesper examined it with interest. “Is it money?” 

Wylan snatched it back. “Jes!”

“What? It’s an honest question.” 

“No, it’s not money. As if you needed any more!” I said with a roll of my eyes. 

Jesper stole it back from Wylan, who let out a disgruntled, “Hey!” “You can’t read it, anyways, he said smugly. His eyes dropping to the paper. They widened. Raked back across the words, unbelieving. For the first time I’d known him, Jesper Fahey was blessedly still and quiet. 

“What is it?” Wylan looked at Jesper, who stared at me, lips parted in shock. 

“Is this-?“

“Legal? Yes, actually.”

“How-?“

“-Kaz isn’t the only person who knows how to get what he wants around here-“

“-But who’s going to-“

“Me.”

“Don’t tell me you’re a-“

“-no, but you’d be surprised what my position allows me to do-“

“Holy shi-“

I kissed him on the cheek and smiled as his thunderstruck expression. “Invite me to the wedding, won’t you, Fahey?” I called over my shoulder. 

“Wedding?” Wylan spluttered. 

Jesper’s grin was loud as a gunshot. “Guess who’s getting married next week, merchling!” 

…

Jesper’s father arrived a few days later, beaming like the sun. 

Wylan’s mother walked as if in a daze- a happy one, this time. 

Nina made a lopsided… waffle cake? 

Naj ran errands. 

I cooked. 

And Kaz… Kaz… didn’t… scowl? (Actually, he “somehow” managed to scare the Merchant Council into “allowing” Wylan and Jesper to take two weeks off from “work”.)

The week flew by and, miraculously, after the madness and confusion and pure chaos, we stood in the opulent Van Eck ballroom, sparkling from floor to ceiling as the last rays of the sun poured in like liquid gold. The sun was hot and fierce on our face as it sank. 

Wylan and Jesper stood face to face and hand in hand.

I never saw anybody look so happy… or so nervous. 

The room grew dark as it kissed the clouds and began to disappear, and with a brilliant smile, I threw my hands up and let my magic blaze forth in gold and white, filling the room with its pure, shimmering light. I wore only red, no white. 

There was no place for mourning today. 

I bade my magic to hang suspended in the air, and I began to speak. 

I spoke of marriage and the joy of a life spent together: how love guided and protected; softened and strengthened; endured and lasted, in hardships and good times alike. 

I bade my friends to take each other’s hand in theirs, and they did so. 

I asked them if they would be good and true to one another, all the days of their lives. 

They swore they would. 

I asked if they would take each other as they were: wholly and completely. I asked if they saw one another for the person they were- for the soul inside them, and not just the body that housed it. 

They swore they would. 

Finally, as soft as a song, I asked if they loved one another, for the heart is a fragile thing, and prone to breaking if not taken care of. 

They swore they would, and with that, they slid a ring on each other’s finger, practically lighting the room with their joy so that my own magic seemed dim in comparison. 

Wylan’s mother passed a soaked handkerchief to Jesper’s father. 

Nina didn’t bother to wipe her eyes. 

Kaz, ever prepared, produced a handkerchief out nowhere and handed it to her without a sideways glance. 

“Thanks,” she sniffled. 

With all the happiness in my heart I lifted a tiny gold glass, filled to the brim with sweet, crisp wine, and offered it to Wylan. “Let you share this together, for life is an empty glass without the wine of love,” I translated in Shu. 

Wylan took a sip and almost spilled on himself, his hands shook. 

Jesper laughed through glassy eyes. 

I cleared my throat for my son, who played with the dish of red powder like the imp he was. “Naj.”

He didn’t hear me. 

“Naj.” 

Nina looked close to hurting herself; she was trying so hard not to laugh. 

“Nadir Jordan,” I hissed. “You get over here right now, or Saints help me, I will tan your hide!”

Smug, he bounded over with his red powder, grinning ear-to-ear. “I heard you, Ma, budanxin!” Those pale, clever fingers were stained red as he held the porcelain dish up to me insolently. 

“Gei wo’a!” I snatched it out of his hands and glared away his indignant protests. 

Wylan and Jesper leaned against one another, shaking with laughter as Kaz yanked him back with one hand, his smirk dangerously close to a smile. 

“Now.” I turned to them and let myself smile. I dipped the tips of my finger into the powder and touched them on the middle of their forehead, one at a time. “Red for luck,” I murmured to Wylan, “And red for love,” I whispered to Jesper. 

My hand fell away. “Now, I bid you, take each others’ hands once more.”

They did. 

“Your hand’s all sweaty, darling,” Jesper whispered teasingly. 

Wylan turned cherry red even as his fingers tightened. “Shut up.”

I wrapped my magic around them like a ribbon of gold and let it glow bright as day, binding them together for life. “So it has been since the beginning: tongyangde: you are one and the same.” 

The light died, and they stood: statues bound together. 

“You’re supposed to kiss, you know,” I whispered teasingly. 

They didn’t hear me. 

Wylan and Jesper, the Merchling and the Sharpshooter, stared at one another in bottomless wonder and endless happiness, as if the world began and ended with them. Nothing else existed. Nothing else mattered. 

It made my eyes tear up in the best of ways. 

Kaz tapped his cane on the floor, snapping the two out of their stupor. “None of us are getting any younger,” he called. 

I grinned. “Go on, you fools! Kiss!”

“Keep it clean!” Nina sang. 

Jesper’s smile was sultry confidence. “Brace yourself, Wy, because this is-“ 

Wylan surprised us all by dragging Jesper to him by his silk vest and stunning him into blissful silence, kissing him so fiercely and so gently Jesper wobbled before melting into it with abandon. 

I cupped my hands around my mouth and gave a trilling cry, celebrating a union made. 

Naj joined in, whooping at the top of his lungs with Nina. 

Colm clapped. 

Marya smiled so wide her I was afraid she’d crack. 

Kaz just shook his head at them, but his eyes told a different story. 

And Wylan, braver than any of us, kissed Jesper with the strength of the tide, and Jesper, utterly at peace, let himself be carried out to sea. 

…

I can’t say that was the end. 

There was feasting. And toasting. And many, many speeches: some good, some… rather terrible- but all from the heart. We stuffed ourselves until our stomachs ate, and then we heaved ourselves up, cheering as Marya reluctantly sat down at the piano. 

“A dance!” I begged. “Please?” 

Music filled the ballroom and I darted out and grabbed Naj, dragging him with me, and held onto his hand as I twirled him round and round, giggling like the girl I once was. 

I looped my arm through Nina and coaxed Mr. Fahey to join us. And Kaz…I just smiled at his quiet refusal and whirled away. 

We clasped hands and formed a circle around the happy couple, laughing, as we turned to our right and danced: three steps right, one step left, spinning after every repeat, before pulling away to form an even bigger circle. 

We wove in and out. 

We smiled as Wylan and Jesper stood shoulder to shoulder- together. 

The music changed and I spun away, letting my hands lead me through a dance, twisting them to my heart and extending them out. “Like a river flowing to the sea, let your joy be the same,” I sang in An’Lin Shu, “The moon shines its light upon these two- and everything is beautiful.”

Jesper grinned. “I have no idea what you’re saying but it sounds wonderful!” 

I tossed my hair back and winked as I sang, “And though the years may pass you by- you are forever young. Love is in your hearts, and you are forever young.” I bowed to my applause and sped over to Naj. “Don’t let go,” I whispered. “Ready?” 

He nodded eagerly.

I crossed one hand over the other and gripped his between mine. “Now, spin!”

We held on tight and whirled round in dizzying circles, gasping and giggling the faster we got. The world was my son’s laughing face, and I found it good indeed. 

… 

I danced with Wylan and Jesper and even Nina, and Kaz stood alone watched us with some silent measure of peace. 

But he did not join us. 

He always stood alone, Kaz. 

So, after I made sure that I was thoroughly drunk on wine and laughter, I told him that someday, he would have to dance with me. 

Just once. 

He said he would- though at the time, I think he only did it so I’d leave him alone. I always was a bit of a nuisance to Dirtyhands. 

But he did fulfill his promise. 

He did dance with me, just once. 

It was years after the wedding- years after…everything. I think he knew, towards the end; he knew that someday, I would never be able to dance again. 

But that’s a story for another time. 


	16. Peppers (Year 5)

The sky was bleary grey as the sun just barely started to illuminate the horizon. It was ridiculously early in the morning. I couldn’t sleep, for every time I closed my eyes I saw horrors and death and my child buried in some lonely patch of earth. 

Traditionally, if a child died they were not to be given the same treatment as an elder: they were to be buried in silence and left, for children were not to be honored by their elders. But I cared little for tradition, and this was my daughter. 

I pushed back my loose sleeved and tucked my short hair into a long swath of white fabric that draped down my back in loose folds. This was my Grieving Cloth: the veil I would wear to show someone dear to me had died. It was a sign of the deepest sadness: to cut short and cover up our hair- our life line- we were demonstrating that our lives would never be complete again. The veil was to be taken off once a year had past, but in my heart, I didn’t know if I could ever. 

I would never stop mourning her. 

My hands rolled and kneaded the dough, spinning the ball quickly round in a circle. I was neither a maid nor a cook, but there was something about making baozi-steamed dumplings filled with meat and vegetables- that made me feel content. 

When I was a girl my mother and aunts and the women of our village would gather together during the New Year and spend the day making food, laughing and chattering like geese. It was one of the few times I saw my mother smile; when she was with her sisters, she could be happy. I would weave in and out, giggling as I dashed past the spinning balls of dough; the piles of crisp green cabbage ready to be mixed into the pork and fragrant spices. The men would bring home great silver fish that smelled of fresh spring water and duck caught from the underbrush, and we children would fly kites painted with dragons and phoenixes in the gusty mountain air. 

The memories of the laughter and joy made me freeze, and I was struck with the most terrible feeling of homesickness. How long ago that all seemed. How very far away. 

“Mama?” Naj whisper made me jump hard. 

I wiped away the moisture gathering my eye. “Xingan. It’s barely five! Why are you awake?” 

“Nightmare.”

The moment I heard the quaver in his voice, my troubles were forgotten. I dusted my hands off on my towel and held one out to him. “Lai,” I murmured. 

He shuffled over and I pushed his hair away from his sallow face. “Bed, xingan.” With soft steps I made my way back to his bed and sat down with him. “Now,” I said, “what was your dream?” 

“The same one.” Dark rings circled his eyes. “They shot me, after they shot you.” 

My heart hurt that he had to experience this, but he was a child in the Barrel, and children didn’t survive long here. “Ai,” I murmured. “I’m sorry.” 

“It wasn’t real.” He sounded too old for his age. 

I touched his shoulder. “Your Da and I will never let that happen to you. Not while we live. But you are learning to fight, now. You’re learning to be strong. This is good.” 

A scowl twisted his face; he leaned away from me. “I hate it,” he whispered resentfully. 

“If you liked it, you have no idea what we’re preparing you for,” I said shortly.

He glared daggers at me. “I hate you, too, when you make me fight you.” 

I met his angry gaze with sorrow. “I know, and I’m glad for it.” 

“Why?” His voice rose to a shout. “I don’t want to learn what’s the best way to kill someone! I don’t want to dream about being shot and kidnapped or murdered! I just want to be left alone!” He clamped his mouth shut and looked down, stewing in silence, waves of anger and helplessness rolling off him. 

“I would rather be cruel, and have you live, than be kind, and bury my son.” 

Guilt spread across his face and he remained silent for a few minutes. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled finally. “I don’t hate you. Not really.” Tears rose up in him and he pushed them back down with visible effort.

I pushed his hair back. “You have every right to be angry. And sad.” 

Up went the chin, and he glowered- stubbornly, fiercely independent. So much of his father in him. “I don’t mean to be weak,” he said stiffly, anger tightening his words. 

“You are not weak,” I barked. The brusqueness kept my voice from wobbling. “You’re a nine-year-old boy. Your Da and I never had to do what you’re doing when we were your age. So don’t say you’re weak, because you are so, so strong.” I gripped his arms so he would stare me in the face. “You listen to me: we train you very, very hard- so you can stand on your own two feet, and fight. This world can be cruel, but it is also kind, and we would have you live to see it.” 

“I wish I didn’t have to be this.” 

I sighed. “Women’shi women bixi’de. We are what we have to be.”

“Wo’zao,” he said, sounding more tired than ever. 

I hugged him tight. “A day will come, when your Da and I cannot save you, and you will have to save yourself. You will save yourself, but you will be ready. I know this. Do you?” 

He mumbled something, eyes downcast. 

“Eh? Shuo ShuHan, woting’budong ni.” I rapped out, sounding like my grandmother. 

He rolled his eyes. “Dui, mama.” 

I nodded in approval. “Hao. Now, do you think you can go to sleep?” 

He shrunk down. “No,” he whispered. He sounded embarrassed. 

“It’s alright to be scared, xingan. Fear makes us human.” I brushed back his hair. “I have nightmares too. I get scared. But do you know what makes me feel better?” 

“What?” 

“You, my love. You make me feel brave.” I took his face in my hands and made him look at me. “Don’t be afraid of being afraid. We are stronger than fear.” 

His eyelids started to droop like a sunflower. 

I tucked him in. “Now go back to sleep. You must try to get some rest. Alright?” 

“Alright,” he slurred. 

He was out before he even realized it. 

I gently pressed my lips to his temple, and whispered my mother’s words, now my own. “Love makes me weak,” I said, “but for you, I would let myself be weak.” 

I stood up, and closed the door with a click. 

I wrapped my arms around myself and shivered. The morning chill had crept up on me, and the room was chilly. I lit the fire for the stove and poured water into the pan, setting it to boil. Warmth rolled through me and I closed my eyes, pushing my sleeves up and began to flatten and spin balls of dough into discs. I scooped the meat vegetable mixture into the center and deftly spun the dumpling, folding them into neat little packages, which I slid onto a tall bamboo steamer I had bought from a Shu woman in the market. Steam rose from the pan, and I smoothly set the bamboo frame, loaded with dumplings on the top, breathing in the fresh snap of ginger and the tangy bite of the meat. 

A while later the door closed and Kaz limped in. I had offered to go with him, but I had been needed to watch Naj for the night. Kaz still didn’t like the idea of leaving me alone with his son, but we were out of options.

Not that I minded, of course. 

I stood silently, checking the clock to see when the dumplings would be ready. 

“Why are you here?” 

“Hello to you, too,” I muttered. Just like every day, I rifled through the drawers, admiring the sheer abundance of food: enough to feed a whole village! My eyes scanned the bunches of garlic and the bundles of herbs; the jars of pickled vegetables, the bottle of dry rice wine and the little containers of spices. 

All preserved. All saved. Nothing- not even the scraps of the scraps- went to waste. I made sure of it. After all- who knew when supplies would be cut off? 

I surveyed my collection with the pride of a fine jeweler taking stock of his gems. Not even the presence of Dirtyhands himself kept me from smiling like a fool as I silently took inventory of all the food I had compiled. “Isn’t it lovely…?” 

Kaz saw my smile and obviously thought I was inebriated. “Have you been drinking?”

“No. You just don’t see what I see,” I replied, patting my spicy fermented cabbage and pearl onions in brine affectionately. 

“What I see an obscene amount of food we’re never going to be able to finish.” 

“It’s good to have more than enough!” I countered defensively. 

“I don’t think we need-“ he gestured to the cupboards stuffed to the brim- “all this.” 

My fingers tightened around the glass; something about the way he dismissed me filled me with discontent. “Ketterdam has to import most of its food. What happens when the shipments stop?” I demanded. “Do we starve? Does Naj, starve?” 

His face held nothing but seriousness when he replied, “Naj will never starve the way we did.” He looked down at the jar in my hands. “You should put that down before you break it.” He reached out to take it, and- 

Years of food being denied- and taken- made some dormant part of me rear its head and snarl. 

Kaz stared at me as his hand lowered deliberately. 

“Never take food from a predator.” I pried my fingers from their death grip and carefully set the jar back on the shelf before it broke. Humiliated but still proud, I took a deep breath and smiled tightly. “Old instincts die hard, yes?” 

Kaz didn’t return my smile. “People aren’t as civilized as they think.” 

The strange thing was: I believed him. 

Growing up during a war meant that old or rotting, stale or raw- if it was food, I ate it, because it kept me alive. If my parents had to choose between feeding my brother and feeding me, nine times out of ten my brother would be the one to eat, since I was not only the oldest, but also a girl. 

So… you could say I had… trouble… sharing. 

The clock’s hands snapped me out of my stupor. “Damn!” I hissed. “Damn damn damn!” I swept the top of the steamer off with an oath, relaxing when I saw the batch hadn’t been ruined. I sighed heavily at their rubbery, near-overcooked appearance. “I really need to pay more attention when I make these…” 

“It’s barely five in the morning, and you’re... cooking?” He sounded incredulous. 

I gave him a wry look. “Why the surprise, Kaz? You know as well as I that I can wield a kitchen knife better than a gun.” 

He stepped over to the pan and looked at its contents with interest. 

“Hungry?” I asked, lifting the dumplings out with lightning speed and filling it back up with the second batch. 

“Yes.” He watched me work. “What are they?” 

“Baozi. Steamed dumplings with meat and vegetables. I made some hot pepper sauce too, because Naj must have chili peppers in his blood,” I snorted. 

Kaz plucked a fresh pepper out of the small glass pot by its stem and examined at it. “Is this a Dragon Heart pepper?” 

“Yes.” 

“These things are like eating fire. I don’t understand why Naj loves them so much,” he carefully put it back like it was a tiny bomb.

I held my hand out. “Could you hand me those?” 

He tossed them my way and I snatched it out of the air without looking. 

“We grew these by the pound back home.” I sat down with a needle and some strong thread and began stringing the fresh peppers onto it, and when it was done, I strung it up from a hook on the ceiling. They dangled there like charms. “They’re good for the heart! And the digestion.” 

“I don’t see how since they’re practically edible bombs.” 

“Pssh- you Kerch are like white bread.” I popped one in my mouth and chewed on it, slowly. The heat exploded across my taste buds and roiled down my throat, but I was used to it. It felt pleasantly warm going down; like swallowing a hot soup. 

“You don’t feel anything?” 

“I mean…” I sniffed lightly, “it burns a little going down.”

“A little.” 

I smirked at his tone of disbelief. “To be fair, I’ve been eating hot peppers since before I could talk, so this is nothing.”(Dragon Heart peppers were a staple in my village. No man, woman, or child worth their salt shied away from them.) I plucked another from the jar and crunched through the succulent flesh with relish. “Delicious,” I mumbled through the mouthful. “It tastes best with chocolate, though- dark chocolate.” 

“You must have no sense of taste left if you think those things are delicious.” 

I kept my face cool. “They’re good. You should try one! Build up your…ah...” I snapped my fingers, trying to think of the expression. 

“Immunity?” 

“Yes, exactly!” I shook the jar of peppers mockingly at him. “Have one!”

“No.” He pushed the jar firmly away from him with his cane. 

“Have you ever actually tried one?” 

“No, and I don’t intend to,” he said dryly. 

I sighed. “Ah, Brekker. You say you fear no man, yet a single, little pepper would send you running?” 

“It’s not running away. It’s being smart. I saw what happened last time people tried to eat them. Nina was in tears. Jesper drank a half a gallon of milk. Wylan threw up.” 

Ah yes. Poor Wylan. I did feel for him- truly. 

“So… you’re saying that you’re no better than them?” I was enjoying this. 

“No.” 

“Then what are you saying?” I leaned forward. “How about this: I dare you, Kaz Brekker. Bastard of the Barrel, Dirtyhands, most feared man in Kerch, to eat this,” I held up a pepper and bared my teeth in a mockery of a grin. 

We stared at each other. 

He just turned around and began walking away. 

Time to play dirty. I innocently called out to his retreating form, “Your son asked me to buy some for you as a gift.” 

He scoffed. “I trust you about as far as I can throw you.” 

“Which is?-“

“Not much.” 

“I don’t lie about Naj wanting to give you something. Here, you can ask him yourself.” I turned my head. “Naj! Your Da’s home!” 

“Really?” I smiled at his excited voice. Right on time, Naj came bounding in. “Da!” He charged towards his father and tackled him in a hug. 

Kaz smiled. 

“Naj, do you have something you wanted to give your Da?” I asked innocently? 

The smile became a scowl. 

“What?” he yawned, still drowsy. Then he perked up. “Oh, yes, one second!” Naj rushed from the room. 

I oozed smugness. “Checkmate, husband dear.” 

“I despise you.” 

“I know,” I shrugged. “You shouldn’t have underestimated me. I outmaneuvered you.” 

“It was a cheap move.” 

“I’m the Blood Dragon, you’re the Bastard of the Barrel. Who said anything about playing fair?” 

His jaw worked as if a thousand words were trying to burst out of him at once. 

“Problem, Kaz?” 

If a single stare could kill, I’d be dead. 

Right on time Naj came in holding a jar of chocolate covered Dragon Heart peppers- his favorite candies. It wasn’t exactly what I was used to (I preferred the peppers on their own), but I did love the novelty of chocolate, and combined with the fire of the peppers, I had to admit: it was delicious. I could eat them by the jar if I had the opportunity. 

“I used some of the money I made from working with Uncle Wylan and Uncle Jesper to get some of these so you could try one, since you weren’t able to have any last time.” He pressed the jar into Kaz’s hand proudly. “Mama says they help keep your blood moving if you get cold, so these could help you stay warm when you’re working late in the winter. I know you have your coat but…” he smiled. “They also really are good!” 

“Thank you, Naj.” Kaz held onto the jar like it was a priceless gift- which it was- but he made no move to eat one. 

Naj’s smile fell slightly. “Oh. Do you not like them?” He sounded quietly put out, but not enough to be petty. “You don’t have to eat them if you don’t like them,” he said easily. “It’s alright.” As he stood there he gave me the tiniest twitch of his hand as our signal. 

By all the Saints that boy was the best actor in Kerch. 

Kaz looked down at the jar and back at Naj. Then back at me. That one look spoke volumes. “You’ll pay for this later,” it promised. 

Oh, I’m sure I would, but for now I was reveling in this. 

He reached into the jar and carefully selected the tiniest pepper. With the slightest twitch in his eye he bit into it and chewed. He went rigid as the pepper broke apart.

I eyed him in amusement. 

By the look of it the heat of it hit him like punch to the gut. 

“Isn’t it good, Da?” Naj’s enthusiasm wasn’t faked this time. He genuinely loved them. 

I bit my lip, taking in my husband’s bulging eyes. His usual collected composure was gone, and at the moment, Kaz looked like he wanted to be ill. Sweat beaded across his now-reddening face, and his eyes were watering like a broken pipe. 

“Da? Are you alright?” Naj asked curiously. 

Kaz nodded with a jerk, looking anything but. 

I barely repressed my snort of laughter. 

Naj’s hunger won over his focus. He eyed the jar hopefully. “Could I have one, Da?”

Kaz tipped the jar towards him silently and Naj happily helped himself to a plump chocolate-coated pepper, chomping away with gusto. 

Gracefully I opened a small bottle of milk I had got and poured Kaz a glass, sliding it across to him with a single finger. 

He glared at me, looking more open to tossing the milk in my face than drinking it. 

“It’s either this, or you burn a hole through your throat.” I crossed my arms. “Don’t be an idiot, Kaz. Take the milk.” 

The glare only intensified. 

As it happens, the iron-clad will of Kaz Brekker finally caved after an impressive three minutes without relief, by which time he grabbed the glass like a man starved and guzzled it down in long draughts, gasping and coughing like a man drowned. 

Graciously I offered him the bottle in one hand and a handkerchief in the other, both of which and he snatched it from me, cursing me sullenly under his breath as he alternated between the milk and blowing his nose. 

“You handled that very well-” 

Kaz glared at me so ferociously I thought it wise to take a healthy step back. 

“Alright, alright!” I bent over the steamer, grinning for the first time in months. 

Naj watched his Da and started to laugh uproariously. “Da, I can’t believe you fell for that!”

“I can’t either,” I said humorously. 

“What?” Kaz’s sounded like he had swallowed a lump of steel wool wrapped in thorns. 

Naj doubled over with laughter, wheezing. “Your face is all red! And you’re sweating!” 

I pressed my lips together. “You do look rather flushed, Kaz.” 

Kaz’s eyes flicked between his son and I. “You…tricked me?” he said to Naj. 

“Yep,” Naj sang, looking immensely pleased with himself. “It was my idea.”

“Your idea?” My husband’s face was priceless. 

“All mine. I knew you wouldn’t trust Ma, but me?” Naj looked up at him and shrugged, full of the knowledge that his plan had been carried out like clockwork. In that one look, he was all Kaz. “I knew you’d try them if I asked you to. Ghezen, it was easy!” 

Kaz just stood there, milk forgotten. “You played me like a harp...” 

Naj grinned. “I’m a good actor, Da.” The smile faded a bit, and he looked concerned. “You’re not mad, right? It was just a little joke.” He shifted a bit, nervous. “And I wasn’t lying about wanting to help you feel better in the winter, either.” 

Kaz coughed as some stray flecks worked their way down his throat. “No, Naj, I’m not mad.” He ran his hand through his hair and started to actually smile. “I just can’t believe I became a pigeon to my nine year old son.” 

I snorted, and the snort turned into a full-blown laugh. 

Kaz crossed his arms and watched us as I hugged Naj around his shoulders while we giggled uproariously. This was a good morning indeed. It made me forget my sadness for a while. I motioned with my head. “The food is done.” 

Naj grabbed the plates and forks and Kaz picked up the plate of dumplings. 

I poured my infamous pepper sauce into a bowl and brought it to the table. “Want some,” I teased, offering Kaz the bowl. 

He gave me a withering look. 

I passed it to Naj. 

We all quietly dug into the dumplings. I used chopsticks because the fork felt strange to me, even now. 

“Love dumplings,” Naj whispered as he drowned his in the sauce. 

“I make good food,” I proclaimed proudly. 

Kaz grunted around his mouthful of dumplings. “Next time I’m cooking. No peppers.” 

“You cook?” I squawked. 

“You didn’t think I could do it, huh?” 

God. Even the way he ate felt smug! 

“Dirtyhands can cook?” I muttered to myself in disbelief. “What next?”

Naj tugged on my arm and I leaned over. “Da makes the best huluski. He’s quite good.” 

“I think you’ll like it, Meiyu.” Kaz reached for another dumpling and took in my leery expression with grim satisfaction. “Almost as much as I loved those peppers.” 

I stifled a groan in Shu. “Saints preserve me… Now I’m going to die of poisoning!...” 

Kaz didn’t look up. “You’ll survive.”

I gave him a dirty look, choosing to ignore him as I watched with dismay as my son wolfed down dumplings like it was his last meal. “Ei!” I jabbed my chopsticks at him. “Chew your food, for goodness sake!” 

He looked up, mouth full. “Wha?” 

“You’re going to choke!” I huffed. 

Shrugging, he continued to inhale his meal. 

I rolled my eyes and snatched his plate away from him. “Eat like a human being, or don’t eat at all,” I warned him. 

Naj glowered at me, but when I slid his plate back, he ate with a little more finesse. 

I watched Kaz chase a dumpling around his plate with a kind of wicked satisfaction. Ha, I laughed. Foreigners. “You could use a fork,” I said, elegantly plucking another dumpling from the pile as my mouth curled up in a smirk. “It isn’t meant to be that hard.” 

His fingers flexed around the chopsticks. “I don’t like not knowing how to do something.” 

“Of course you don’t.” I examined the way he held them, the way his fingers kept slipping this way and that. “Do you want a suggestion?” 

He looked up from the mangled dumpling, actually considering my offer. “Alright.” 

I was surprised to say the least, but instead I gestured towards his fingers. “Your fingers are moving too much. You’re bottom fingers must be still. They are the…” I wracked my brain. “What is it, the thing that holds a ship?”

“Anchor?” he supplied. 

“Yes. They are the anchor. It is only this finger,” I touched my pointer, “and the thumb, that move.” I tapped the chopsticks together slowly. “You see?” 

He didn’t answer- only watched. Watched, and then mimicked perfectly. 

The dumpling was held aloft like a prize. 

Naj applauded. 

I inclined my head to him. “Henhao.”

Although his face didn’t change, I had a feeling Kaz was pleased. “I’m a fast learner.” 

I stood up with my empty bowl. “Naj, it is time you learned to make these. I’m not going to feed you forever!” 

He slumped in his seat. “Do I have to?”

Kaz prodded him upright with his cane. “You ate at least half your body weight in them, so it’s only fair you should learn.” 

“But it’s so boring,” he grumbled. 

Kaz scooped up the dirty dishes and set them on the counter with a sharp clack. “Don’t whine,” he warned. “You’re told old to be acting like this.” 

Naj shut his mouth, chastised. 

I placed my hand on his shoulder. “Come. I will teach you, so when you are grown, you may teach your children!” 

Naj looked at me, disturbed. “I’m nine!” 

“My mother said that to me, and I say that to you.” I beckoned him over. “Lai.” 

He trundled over, dragging a stool as he went. 

I also saw Kaz hanging back in the shadows, content to watch. 

I looked down at my boy and smiled at him. “Now, I have already made the dough and the meat. You are going to learn how to roll, stuff, and fold them.” 

He looked at my perfect half moons. “That looks hard.” 

“It is at first, but when you learn, it won’t be so bad.” I patted the dough, switching to Shu. I swiveled my head around, directing my words at Kaz. “Let’s see how much Shu you understand.” 

He inclined his head. “Challenge accepted,” he responded, smooth as silk. 

“Your Kerch accent is still horrible,” I teased. 

“It is pretty bad,” Naj added. 

Kaz leaned forward. “Your mother has an accent,” he pointed out. 

Naj swirled the flour around. “Yeah, but Ma’s is pretty. Yours just sounds bad.” 

Ah. The brutal honesty of children. 

“Ha!” I crowed in triumph. “Thank you, my son. I appreciate it.”

Kaz sat back. “I think I’ve had my fill of Shu for the day,” he muttered, ironically, in Shu. 

“You’re a fast learner, and your accent is only bad, not horrible,” I admitted. “Really, you’re much better than when we first met.” 

He smiled that strange smile of his. “Thank you.” 

“Mmhm.” I picked up the dough and squeezed it in my hands. “Now, Naj: do you see this? This must be soft- as soft as-” I snuck my hand over and pinched him on his earlobe, making his squawk. “Alright?” 

“Okay.” 

I dropped a ball of dough in front of him. “This is yours.” 

He prodded the dough with a finger. 

I covered my hands in the soft flour and began lengthening and twisting the dough with quick, deft motions, pulling it round and round until stretched out into flexible circle, which I pinched off. “You must make sure the dough can stretch. I held it up to him to see. “If it does not, it will be hard to work with.” 

He nodded, slowly pulling his dough into a ragged circle, but a circle no less. 

“Now, we must cut it into small pieces.” I yanked the heavy square knife from the cutting board and twirled it in one graceful movement, chopping the dough into little chunks with the speed that comes from experience until all that remained was a neat pile. 

Naj was thoroughly impressed. “You’re fast!” 

“I’ve been doing this for a long time.” I held the knife out to him, handle first. “Now you.” 

He hefted it like a sword, eyes gleaming. “Whoa!” It looked rather ridiculous paired with his rail-thin arms. “It’s so big!” 

“A knife is a tool, not a toy, Naj,” Kaz reminded him from his spot. 

Naj rolled his eyes. “I know, Da. Ghezen!” He lowered the blade and began cutting up his dough, less enthusiastic this time. 

Kaz’s eyebrows shot up at the attitude, but he seemed far from angry. Actually, I thought I heard him chuckle under his breath. 

“Don’t talk back to your Da,” I reminded him as I handed him the smooth wooden roller. “Now. Roll these into circles, about this big,” I showed him my flat disc. 

He began rolling the raw dough with painstaking care, sprinkling flour as he went. Like me! I observed his efforts with great pride. “I think I’m done,” he told me. He picked it up between two fingers and held it up like you would a dead animal, glancing between his and mine. “It looks awful,” he said in disgust. Back to Kerch. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Kaz fight down a slight smile. “That was your first one, Naj. You’ll get better.” I didn’t realize how close he had come when I was working. 

Such is the way of the Thief. 

“Exactly. Listen to your Da.” I made him put down the dough. “This is fine.”

Naj’s face went from faintly annoyed to exceedingly bothered. 

Kaz’s eyes snapped to mine. Fine? 

My eyelid slid down in a lazy wink, and he nodded0, understanding me perfectly. 

If there was anything Naj could not stand, it was the word “fine” because “fine” meant “good enough” and “good enough” meant it wasn’t perfect. (My son was also a terrible perfectionist, not to mention competitive to a fault.)

Kaz gave me a dry look, and I shrugged 

So I was being a touch manipulative. If that was what it took to get Naj to stop complaining and actually try, so be it. 

We went back to watching our son. 

I started on my own ball of dough. “It will taste the same, xingan. Don’t worry.” 

Naj eyes flicked back and forth between my perfect circle and his ragged lump, displeasure building like water behind a dam. 

I reached for it to fill it with the meat, and finally, it was too much. 

Quick as a flash, he snatched it away. “I want to try it again!” he declared fiercely, smashing it back into a ball and attacking the dough with a fury.

I held back my laughter. “Naj! You can’t be perfect every time.” 

He shook his head stubbornly. “It’s not that. I just want to get it right!” Naj went back to rolling, his brow furrowed in a scowl as he tried to achieve perfection. 

I looked at Kaz over his head and smirked. “Now who does that sound like?” 

His face was as empty as ever. “I wouldn’t know.” 

Ages later, Naj held up a perfectly rolled piece of dough with all the pride of a nine-year-old who had completed an impossible task. “Done!” he announced. 

“Good job.” My eyes sparkled as I pushed the mountain of pieces his way: not just his, but mine as well. “Now, keep going.” 

His face went from happy to horrified. 

“You’re old enough to be helping me with chores.” I dusted my hands off. “Call me when you’re done, because I have another job for you. Understood?” 

His voice was carefully respectful. “Yes, Ma.” 

“Good.” I cheerfully patted him on the back. “I’m going to find a book.” 

Naj gazed at the towering pile in despair. 

I walked away, feeling a smug grin spread across my face as I searched the shelves for the new book. Kaz’s footsteps stopped behind me, and I looked over my shoulder. “Yes?” 

His dark eyes glinted with something like laughter. “That was nothing short of psychological manipulation.” 

“It was, wasn’t it?” I said mildly. My finger slid across the spines of each book, my mouth slowly forming each title. “But it worked.” 

“I can’t argue with that.” His eyes followed mine. “I still find it strange that you’re such a good cook.” 

I scoffed at the backhanded attempt at a complement. “Oh really.” 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, now somewhat cold. 

I dropped my hand. I didn’t know why I was so defensive around him today. “I know. And…Thank you.” 

He nodded. 

I considered the cautious way he held himself. “I am powerful,” I said thoughtfully, “but why should that mean to cook, or dance, makes me weak?” I went back to looking. “In Shu, women took care of the family. There is no shame in this. But I’m very glad it was not the only thing I have been able to do in my life, ni’zao? I am glad I had the choice.” 

“I understand.” He stepped closer, scanning the shelves. “That one is pretty good,” he said, tapping one leather-bound one. “So is this one,” he touched one dusty red novel. “The rest are the kind of books you can read once but it’s not worth reading again.” 

“You’ve read all of these?” I could hardly believe it. 

He nodded. 

“There’s so many.” My eyes hungrily scanned all of the books: a whole library, just in one man’s home! “It must have taken you a lifetime!” 

He pulled the leather bound book down and handed it to me without looking. “Start with this one. The others will be waiting for you.” 

It felt like a hundred pounds in my hands. I opened it to the first page and the tiny printed words blurred together into blocks that seemed to stretch on and on for miles. My stomach dropped. “I can’t take this.”

“You’re not taking it, I’m lending it to you.” 

“It’s not that.” I felt my face heat with embarrassment. 

He looked at me, and for once it didn’t cut. And then he said one of the wisest things someone has ever said to me. He said: “Learning takes time. There’s no shame in having to start at the beginning, or take your time.” 

The tightness in my chest lessened a degree. “What you say is true.” I smiled ruefully. “But you and I- we are very proud people. And pride…it is difficult to swallow, is it not?” 

“It is. But some things are worth it.” 

I held the book in my hands, soaking in the feel and the freedom of it. “Yes. They are.” I shook my head ruefully, letting out a breath. “But this; it is too much.” 

He crossed his hands over his cane. “I think that’s exactly what Naj is thinking right now as he rolls his way through five pounds of dough.” 

A snort of laughter burst from me before I could hold it back. My discomfort evaporated, and I clapped a hand over my mouth, appalled that I had snorted in front of Kaz Brekker. 

Kaz smirked. “Who would’ve thought the Blood Dragon snorts?” 

I cringed. “It’s awful, I know. My Mother couldn’t seem to beat it out of me.” 

Something dark flit across his face. 

I cocked my head. “Didn’t your parents ever hit you?” I asked, surprised. 

His face closed with the snap of an iron gate. “I don’t remember.” 

Too much. 

I shrugged the awkwardness off; out of habit, my hand drifted to my bad wrist. “That’s how I was raised, and how they were raised, but I can’t say I like it.” 

His mouth turned down the smallest bit. “Shouldn’t we check on him?” 

I snapped back to him. “What?”

“Naj.” He checked his pocket watch. “It’s been a while, and I’m curious to see if he actually listens to you.” 

A self-satisfied smile graced my face. “He does, actually. He knows I don’t, ah, what is it you Kerch say? ‘Fuck around’?” 

Kaz smirked. “I feel like the Kerch language has had a bad influence on you.”

I waved a hand. “I swear plenty in Shu- you just don’t know enough to recognize it.” 

“I’ve learned more than my share of Shu obscenities thanks to you.” 

“True.” 

He eyed the door meaningfully. 

“You have legs. You can check.” 

“Do you ever stop talking?” he asked easily. 

I stifled a yawn. “Not really. It’s a bad habit of mi-“ 

“Meiyu.” 

“Alright! Aiyo! Don’t rush me.” I peeked around the corner to catch a glimpse of Naj bent over the dough, face crumpled in the darkest of scowls as he grabbed another ball of dough and slapped it onto the board in a plume of flour. I pulled back, chortling. 

His eyes glittered with amusement. “How’s he doing?” 

“Actually, quite well.” My mouth twitched. “He’ll resent me for the rest of the day, but he’s improved a lot!” 

“If he didn’t improve after this I’d be worried.” 

I weighed the book in my hands. “Is it as good as you say?” 

He shook his head. “Better.” 

I traced the title’s dark lines cut into the leather. The Watershed. “What’s it about?” 

He shifted off his leg. “You’ll see.” 

“You’re a cruel man, Kaz Brekker.” I tucked the book against my chest and gave him a long look. “But I think, if you let yourself, you could be kind.”

He barked out a laugh. “If you think that, you don’t know me at all.” 

“Kindness comes in many forms,” I told him. I tapped the book in my hands. “This is kindness. And I will call it what I wish.” My soft words rose and fell on empty ears, but I was glad that I said them anyway. 

“We should go back.” He didn’t look at me. 

I nodded. 

We walked out of the room in silence. 

But it was not a bad silence. 

It was the silence before a firecracker- before the first step of a dance-before the rolling of the drums and the notes of the song. 

It was the silence that made me hopeful to see what happened next, because today, I held a book in my hand, and I knew that someday, I would read every book on that shelf and every book I could find until I couldn’t read any more. 

I knew that- one glorious day- I would be completely free.


	17. Kerch Vanilla (or, The First Time I Had Ice Cream)

“What’s this?” 

“It’s ice cream, Ma.”

“Now why would anyone eat frozen cream?” 

“It’s a dessert, Meiyu.”

“I don’t like the sound of it. Frozen cream…” 

“Here. You can try some of mine.” 

“Hm. Well, I suppose it is food. Duoxie….Ahhh! Is’ cooowld!”

“You weren’t supposed to take that big of a bite, Meiyu.” 

“Do you like it, Ma?”

“Mmmhm!” 

“Ma.”

“…”

“Ma?”

“…”

“Ma!”

“Shenme? Weishenme shuo, ‘Ma, Ma, Ma?’”

“-Ma, shi wo’de!”

“Anjin. Wo hen mang….. Mmmm. GOD this is good! Mm! You Kerch are geniuses….”

“Da, why are those men staring?”

“Because they’re perverts.”

“What does that mean?” 

“It means I’m going to have to shoot them.” 

“Ma, what are you doing?...”

“Shh…….Mmm……………Just………Like……”

SNAP! 

“Hey!”

“See?” Gulp. “Works like magic.” 

“You ate my ice cream!”

“I’ll get you another. Ooooooh. Ghezen, that’s cold!” 

“…Da?”

“What is it, Naj?”

“Why do they looking at Ma like that?”

“Because she just mentally castrated them.” 

“…?”

“I pretended I was biting off a very important part of their bodies, sweetheart.”

“Like their heads?”

“…Sure.” 

“Oh. Hehe. I see why that’d scare them. Da, can I get some more ice cream?”

“Are you going to pay for it?”

“No.”

“Then yes.”

“Kaz!”

“See ya!”

“Naj, you get back here! Naj- NADIR JORDAN!- Oh, I give up! You! What is wrong with you?”

“I find that question hypocritical coming from a woman who pretended to bite off a man’s-“

“I’m back!”

“Good. Now get over here.”

“Look, I got you chocolate!”

“They make chocolate too?!”

“Yeah!”

“Saints be praised, there is a God! This looks so- NO! You take this back, you hear?”

“I didn’t steal it, Ma! I swear! The man at the cart gave it to me.”

“Don’t you lie to me, Nadir…”

“No, really! Look- he’s right over there, waving!”

“Where? Oh, I see him. Mmmmhmm. Saints! Absolutely delicious…”

“…”

“I was talking about the ice cream, Kaz! Saints…” 

“I got you one, too, Da. (Uncle Jesper said he’s take me shooting today, so I gotta go. Bye!)”

“...”

“Naj with guns?… Saints preserve us…”

“…” 

“Don’t worry, darling! I like my vanilla, too.” 

“Is that supposed to be a joke?” 

“Oh, should I be more clear? I like my vanilla fresh from the Barrel.”

“…”

“Get it? Fresh from the-“ 

“I get it.” 

“You know, you should be careful. Someday, your face might just freeze in that expression… Permanently…Heh heh heh…Heh heh heh heh...” 

“…”

“Kaz, darling. Your cone is dripping….”

“-Don’t-” 

“-Do you need me to lick it? I’m told I’m very good.” 

“…Why are you like this?”

“Hell- you think I know?....” 

“…”


	18. Dancing (Year 6)

My Gonggong was the person who opened my eyes to a world outside of An’Lin Shu.

He would sit me in his lap and tell me and my brother stories of his childhood back in Kerch. During festivals, I would stand on his feet and he’d dance me around, calling me Miss Rain.

I loved him dearly.

My Waipo was the one who taught me how to dance.

Her name was Meifeng, Beautiful Wind, and she was tall and graceful as a river reed.

I loved her too. I was named after her.

“You two are like a storm in summer,” my mother used to say. “You were the beautiful rain that comes after the beautiful wind.”

I always loved hearing the story of my name. It was one of my best memories of my mother; it reminded me that even though I was born a Cursemaker, I wasn’t always a mistake or a monster to her. I was just Meiyu, the rain that followed the wind.

Waipo was a woman of strong-will: she was the one who drilled me for hours and hours on classical Shu dance, starting when I was very young. Dance was her whole life, and she wanted me to have it, too. Even though I whined and complained about having to do dance lessons with Waipo as a child, I learned to love the freedom it gave with all my heart. The movements and the pure joy of it made my spirits leap.

In another life, I might have chosen to become a dancer, just like her.

My grandmother was the best dancer the village had seen in years. When she danced, even the trees seemed to bend and sway with her. She had incredible talent- and when she was fifteen, a famous traveling dancing troupe came to our village in search of traditional Shu dancers.

My Waipo had no formal training to speak of- we were too poor to go to any of the fancy schools of dance in the big cities. Some of those girls had been waiting their whole life for an opportunity like this, and “competition was stiffer than a whalebone corset”, she surmised Over three thousand girls had come and gone, so she must have felt like a tiny minnow in massive school of hungry fish.

When she stepped in front of the judges, they expected a country bumpkin: a village girl with stars in her eyes and only enough talent for street performances.

What they discovered was an artist.

They offered her the position before the day was over.

She had no parents, no husband, so she took her chance and ran. It would have been a huge scandal, but secretly the whole village was bursting with pride for of her. In spite of her odd-duck existence, she was well loved. They sent her off with gifts and warnings, advice and hopes. They wished her health and happiness and all the luck in the world. People used to watch out for each other that way.

Waipo danced six days a week, every week, along with fifteen other people: twelve dancers, five crew. They traveled across Kerch, and people came from far and wide to see her perform. Three years later and she was one of the most iconic up-and-coming dancers of her age.

That’s when she met my grandfather, Will Jansen. He was sixteen years old: tall, intelligent, and very, very shy. He worked on the crew. Lighting department, he proclaimed with a proud nod. He had gotten the job through his uncle, and he was two years younger than Waipo; now, this is an unusual thing for the time: the husband to be younger than the wife. But Gonggong was smart and mature for his age, so it didn’t matter much. He had a “young face and an old soul”, is how Waipo described him.

In a way, Wylan reminded me of him.

So when my grandfather saw her dance for the first time, he said his heart had been irrevocably lost. Personally, I think he fell in love with her the moment she blushed at him- and then proceeded to demand why he was gawking.

(She blushed because secretly, she had been staring at him, too.)

They were too nervous to look at each other in the eye, but too intrigued to stop.

Such is the nature of love.

He was Kerch and she was Shu. He was painfully shy, and she was sharp as a knife. He thought she was breathtaking- but incredibly intimidating, and she thought he was handsome- but very, very strange. He made her smile and she made him laugh. They challenged each other, and each conversation was like a deck of cards: you never knew what game you would be playing. They came together like… a dance: pushing away one moment, pulling close the next- but always moving in the same circles. Ironically, they never were still enough to realize that from the very beginning, the only two people dancing were them!

All in all, my Waipo and Gonggong took a long time to admit they had fallen in love.

Four years passed, and they still couldn’t seem to shake each other. I guess sometimes people creep into our hearts and we let them in without even realizing it. Friendship turned to love, and finally, he got the courage to ask her to marry him. (I must tell you: my Gonggong was, at times, a very awkward young man, and sometimes his heart ran away with his mouth- especially when it came to my Waipo.)

“We should get married!” he blurted out one day.

_(He blurted this out, rather loudly._

_“Loudly?” Waipo would snort, “This fool proposed by screaming at me!”_

_“I did not scream! I just… spoke very loudly,” He corrected._

_As a child, I always laughed at that._

_“_ Gonggong _,” I would say, “that’s so sweet… and pathetic!”_

_“In my defense,” he protested sheepishly, “the look on her face made me half-stupid with nerves.”)_

Anyways- according to the story, Waipo jumped about a foot in the air.

“For goodness sake, Will!” she exclaimed, “What kind of proposal is that?!”

He turned bright red at that-and almost lost his nerve- but she stopped him with a kiss.

“And Ghezen, it was a gooooood kiss,” he declared dreamily.

_(My brother and I would always pull identical faces of disgust at that part, and Waipo would smack him on the arm, rolling her eyes. “Will! There are children present.”_

“Sorry,” he’d reply, seeming too pleased to be sorry.)

“Marry me,” he said to her, and this time, the question was gentle with love.

“No!” she replied, flabbergast, “Not now!”

“Why not now?” he asked. “You love me, right?”

She turned pink. “Well, yes…”

“Fine. Then give me one good reason why you won’t marry me!”

She opened her mouth, a hundred very good reasons waiting on her lips.

He waited.

And then it occurred to her:

She couldn’t think of any!

“So, that’s a yes, right?” he asked, full of hope.

Waipo rolled her eyes and tried not to smile, but she couldn’t stop it from bursting out of her, and it made her whole face light up like the sun.

 _“It was the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen,” Gonggong remembered. “Like the purest sunlight on a spring day._ Ghezen _\- I wanted to see that smile again and again for the rest of my life.” (As you can tell, my Gonggong loved my Waipo dearly.)_

“Alright!” she finally relented. “I’ll marry you!”

“Really?” he asked in disbelief. (He had the stupidest smile on his face, the fool, Waipo smirked.) “You’re serious?”

“Yes! Now shut up.”

And she kissed him.

And he kissed her back.

They stopped talking then.

A week later, they came back to An’Lin Shu and were married.

My mother was born a few years later, and then her sister- who died as a little baby- then my three uncles were born, and then my aunt and her twin brother (twins ran in my family, you see,) and then my other uncle, and finally, my youngest aunt, who was the baby and got relentlessly teased by her big brothers.

She ended up owning their asses when she got older.

Eight children in all, with seven of them going on to have children of their own.

They were very proud.

It always made me sad that once Mother had me, she didn’t get along with either of her parents. She thought Waipo was too eccentric, and Gonggong was…Gonggong. They were like night and day; they couldn’t seem to agree on anything.

Through the eyes of a little girl, Mother always seemed so hard and distant, so it came as a shock to me when I found out that she had fallen in love with my father-who apparently was Cursemaker, too- and got pregnant to boot at the tender age of sixteen.

I think the hunters got him, in the end. Just like my great grandmother.

Mother never talked about it, though; it hurt too much, so she made herself forget.

Well, after she did, she returned home in shame, and once I was born, my Gonggong and Waipo took me away from her. She wouldn’t touch me, much less get out of bed; I suppose it was all too much for her. So they took me away, and for five years, Gonggong and Waipo raised me beside my aunties and uncles like their own daughter. I only saw my Mother when they visited her; dressed her; made sure she ate; tried to get her to speak to me. They loved her so much, but I don’t know if it was ever enough.

In the end, it was my father who dragged her out of whatever darkness she was trapped it. They seemed happy, when they first married, but I was a little girl, and didn’t want to go back to her, or Father. They were little more than strangers to me: faces I’d seen but never loved.

I threw such a fit when they came for me.

I screamed. I cried. I fought tooth and nail.

I lost, of course, and so did my grandparents.

Life with my parents was…strained. They weren’t unhappy, exactly, but as time went by, they certainty weren’t happy; I think neither expected much from the other. Mother was forever being reminded of how lucky she was to have someone want her, and Father was forever being reminded how he was never around to take care of us as a proper husband should (even though his job forced him to spent months away from us).

You could say they endured, as we all must.

Father loved Mother as best he could- but he saw Gonggong and Waipo as ‘bad influences’ on my precious brother and I. Well, me.

Just me.

The only time I ever defied my parents was to inform them (in a childish fit of rage) that Waipo and Gonggong were my real Ama and Baba, not them. Naturally, Father didn’t like that, and after he took his belt to me, he made my mother fully aware of his disapproval in my behavior.

When it became clear I was a lost cause, he showered all his attention and love on my brother- his first and only son- and in turn, did his best to ignore me: his daughter by law; the inconvenient proof that my mother loved another before him.

No matter. Father was not the warmest of men, but he was far from stupid; he picked up languages like they were stones on the beach, and since my brother was completely uninterested in taking the time to learn them, he (grudgingly) taught me. I learned to speak many dialects of Shu thanks him- and even a little Ravkan.

Father taught me my first three languages.

But the most important lesson I learned from him was that no one cared about me- that is, unless I gave them a reason to care. It was a hard lesson to learn, but now, I am grateful for it.

Anyways. Where was I?

Ah. Yes.

My Waipo and Gonggong were together for… let’s see… around 40 years?

Yes, that’s it.

“Now that’s a long, long, LONG time!” Gonggong would conclude proudly, as if citing a great and noble accomplishment.

“Are you saying I’m old?” Waipo would say dryly.

My brother and I would smirk at each other.

“Never,” he would wink. “It’s just math, my love. Just math! You’re still young and pretty as ever- a spring chicken! (Waipo would scowl at that.) Right, kids?”

“Yes, Gonggong,” we would respond obediently, barely holding in our laughter.

“Ah! There. See?” he would grin, squeezing her hand in his while looking at her like she was his window into Heaven. “Sorry, my darling, but you’re stuck with me forever!”

He’d kiss her hand, and she’d bat him away- gently. “Alright, Will. That’s enough,” she would grumble, trying to smother the smile off her face.

Yes, they were very much in love.

And once one story was done, we children would giggle and beg for another. Just one more. Sometimes there was another. Sometimes there wasn’t. But there was always a big hug from both of them when it was all over. It was one of my best memories from when I was a child.

But that was almost 20 years ago, and I haven’t seen either of them since the war.

I can only guess that they’re both dead, along with all my aunties and uncles, and all their children. Three generations, gone in a single day: just ashes and bones, buried and forgotten.

It still makes me cry, because I miss my Waipo’s sun-smile. I miss my Gonggong’s sweet, goofy shyness, and my aunts’ warm hugs and my uncles’ lame jokes. I miss my cousins’ easy companionship and their babies’ soft giggles.

I miss my brother most of all: my poor, murdered baby brother, who I never stopped protecting, and who never stopped protecting me.

And sometimes, when I let go of my endless anger and gnawing resentment, I think about my sad, cold mother, and my distant, worn father, I realize I miss them, too.

Just a little.

But then I remember how weak you become when you think you can hold onto that kind of love.

So I let it go.

…

I blew the stick gently, watching the smoke curl up.

When it had cooled I carefully drew the cosmetic along my eye, making the gold leap out against the stark white of my face. Then, very carefully, I dabbed the glossy red paint across my lips a tiny brush until they screamed with color.

“It’ll take me until the end of the introduction for me to give you the key.”

“Handing it off to me in plain sight seems like a risk.”

“It’s because it is in plain sight people wont see it.” I did one last look in the mirror before I pivoted around to face him. “Don’t be alarmed if I throw myself at you: it’s part of my role as courtesan,” I smirked.

“Just don’t touch me.”

“Done,” I shrugged. Then a wicked thought came to me. “I won’t touch you, but try to look as aroused as possible all the same.”

The look he gave me could have curdled milk.

I raised my eyebrow. “What? If you just stand there, blank-faced like you usually do, it will ruin the effect,” I pointed out. “Trust me: you’ll blend in better with the other men if you just pant and drool like the rest of them when I dance.”

His face was priceless. “Pant and drool?”

I looked away from him, my humor turning sour. “The line between a courtesan and prostitute is already a thin one. The fact that I’m dancing here practically guarantees I’m the latter.”

He was silent for a while. “You don’t have to do this.”

I stilled, touched by his quiet understanding. Six years of companionship made quite a difference. “I’ll be fine, Kaz. I was a Porcelain. This is child’s play compared to the House.”

He watched me impassively as I slithered into my gauzy underskirt. It was smooth and light as water, woven in fiery colors of yellow and orange, red and vermillion, and embroidered with gold.

“We’ve been planning this for a while. Dancing is what I was trained to do.” I slid the many bracelets of gold up my arms, pushing them up until they dug into the muscles of my arms. “And anyways, I think I’m much more arousing than you are.” A brief image of Kaz Brekker trying to seduce someone flashed across my mind, and I wrinkled my nose at the absurd image, fighting the urge to laugh. But then the scene took a downhill turn and my face contorted in disgust. Saints that was wrong…

His mouth twitched. “I don’t think I want to know what you just saw.”

“You don’t,” I heartily agreed. “It would probably give you nightmares.” I wrapped the iridescent midnight blue robe around myself, my fingers flying, twisting, tucking. If I wanted to be able to get out of it quickly, I had to be very precise in how I pleated the silk, otherwise, I’d be tripping over it instead of stepping smoothly out of it. A heavy necklace encircled my throat, cool against my skin.

Tonight, I was a Shu dancer, dressed for the revelry and joys of the Festival of Light.

I lifted the delicate headdress, turning it round in my hands: observing how the golden beads clinked against each other in delicate strands. I hadn’t worn something like this since I was a young girl preparing for the New Year in my village.

Deft as swift, I wove it into my thick locks, weaving them into ruthlessly tight knots and coils to hold it in place. A brilliant cluster of red silk flowers was the final touch, and I thrust the long, wicked looking pin through my hair to hold it all together. I ran my hands across it, tilting my head back and forth to test its stability.

It held fast.

My hands fell to my dress, and I grimaced at the sluggish way my silken skirts responded to my movements. “Saints. I forgot how heavy these are.”

“You look like you’re carrying about forty pounds of silk and gold right now.”

I winced as I turned my neck to fast. “Actually, I think it’s closer to fifty.” I lifted up the gold and ruby necklace and turned it to the light. So finely made; it looked like lace but felt like lead. I scowled. “We Shu love our gold.”

“I can see that.”

I undid the clasp and placed it carefully on my neck. It felt like a collar. “I despise wearing jewelry like this,” I grumbled, pushing the obnoxious, dangly pearl earrings through my lobes.

“You look like a walking treasure chest.” His voice was the dry rasp of sandpaper.

My scalp ached, but I curtsied grandly. “Thank you.”

“Naj said you looked like a queen from one of your stories.”

I smiled faintly at the oblivious irony in the statement. “Now when has he ever seen me wear my Huoqipao?”

“He saw you practicing yesterday.”

“Oh, so that’s what the noise was?” I shook my head ruefully. “I didn’t see him. I must’ve been distracted.” I stepped into my dancing shoes and tied the bells around my ankles, slipping my ring off so I could give it to my husband for safekeeping.

Kaz took my iron band and pocketed it.

I caught my reflection in the mirror. A stranger stared back at me.

My heart stuttered a bit. I could have just stepped out of the Lotus Room of the House.

I looked like a princess who had stepped out of the pages of a story: white face, glossy black hair, lips red as blood. My tiger-eyes shifted from gold to topaz to honey. I was tall, and powerful and otherworldly. With all my scars covered up, I could almost pass as beautiful. It filled me with nothing but disgust.

“No mourners.”

“No funerals.” Golden mist twisted from my fingers and danced through my fingertips. With a snap I snuffed the mist out, and my eyes lightened to their normal shade.

“Just another day of business,” we finished.

We both rose and made our way out into the main room.

Kaz disappeared into the masses.

Showtime.

I smoothed down my skirts and glided out into the center of the floor.

The lights dimmed. A hush spread through the room. Hundreds of eyes fell onto me. For now, I had my face tailored and veiled. Some people couldn’t tell one Shu face from another, anyways, so my disguise held fast. My skirts felt like water sliding around my legs. I was used to disappearing. I liked being invisible. Now I had to remember how to captivate an audience.

The lights in the room dimmed, a single candle was set in front of me illuminating my form. I raised my arms held still. I flicked my eyes around the room, and I caught the gaze of Brekker himself moving through the outskirts of the audience so he could see me better.

Now I could begin.

My hand twisted outwards into Welcome Guests at Door, and I sunk in a deep curtsy, bowing my head.

A red wax candle glowed in front of me, light spilling across the floor in orange and gold.

I rose and sauntered over to it, plucking it from its stand. I began to circle the room, my hips swaying back and forth, my hands cupping a single candle to illuminate my face with the buttery yellow glow. My skirts sighed across the floor, and the bangles on my wrists and ankles jingled as a lone singer recited the ancient poetry in a Shu Han in a soft, musical voice.

 _This beauty of the north_  
Her face was moonbright  
Her eyes like two stars

I held the candle aloft and twisted, contorting my arm into impossible positions as I bent my body in synch.

My hand flexed out and curled in, and I bent my head over the flame, breathing in the scent as a faint smile touched my lips.

_One look from her, the city falls  
Another, the empire lies in ruins_

I flitted around the room, locking eyes with people in the audience (mainly men). Tonight I was allure and seduction, and I would use it like a warrior uses a blade.

_This beauty of the north  
Has no equal on earth._

Out of the corner of my eye I noticed Kaz had slipped into the front row of the audience. He stood, impassive and unimpressed. Right on time, as always.

 _She walks in sweet moonlight_  
Her gait, seductive  
Her lips, smiling  
Her beauty, captivating.

Gracefully I pushed my veil away in a waterfall of gauzy silk, revealing my face for the first time to the audience. I could see them watching me out of the corner of my eye, breathless.

I undid the special pleat with my free hand, and the silken robes fell away from me in one smooth motion. It slithered down my sides, falling gently to the floor in a heap. I stepped out of the pile of silk, still holding the candle. Cool wood met my bare feet, and the chill of the air made my skin pebble.

Now, I was only clad in feather light gown divided into two pieces. The top itself deep crimson, and ended just at the lower end of my ribs. The bottom was more simple but no less beautiful: my long flame colored skirts kissed the ground, gauzy and overplayed with gold filigree at the bottom. An expanse of pale skin of my chest peeked out from a neckline that swooped into a curved U, and a thick gold necklace lay across my sternum, glinting dully.

As I shed my outer robes, some men leered at my chest in a way that made my teeth clench. Others could barely meet my gaze.

In my youth, I had always been bony side, but after four pregnancies, I had “filled out”. My costume tonight was modest, but it did accentuate every natural asset I had while I danced

I looked at Kaz, and he looked back, all granite and iron and cold steel. A hint of wickedness shot through me, and my lips turned up ever so slightly. My hips swayed to the music as I made my way across the floor before stopping a handbreadth away.

A stray hand grabbed hold of my long veil with stupid boldness, making me jerk around to better examine him. He was bold and breathless, this man: very, very drunk, not to mention very, very captivated by the hint of my cleavage.

Both my husband and I glared at the buffoon.

Mine was a dare.

Kaz’s was a bald threat.

I didn’t smile or sneer; I only stared at him, long and hard, until he became red as the flowers in my hair and beat a hasty retreat.

Idiot.

Ignoring him fully, I focus my gaze back to my Kaz, and without one word or smile, I reached my hand up to the cluster of flowers woven through my hair, plucked one florid bloom from the bunch, and slid it into his coat pocket like a lady bestowing a token on her champion would. A thank you; a blessing; a wish for good luck.

Or, more accurately, a promise for later.

At least half of the audience deflated in disappointment.

I slid my eyes leisurely from my husband’s face to his toes and back up again, lingering low on his lean form with a gaze intense and dark as mulled wine. Oh, I knew very well what he looked like without his clothes, and I didn’t try and hide the fact from him or any man here that I found him… most pleasing to the eye.

To the casual observer, he looked as unaffected as ever.

But I was no casual observer, and he knew it.

My eyes flicked up to his, and I smiled like a cat with a mouse.

_Got you._

His hand tightened on his cane.

I stepped back and stretched my arms back, arching my back.

The whole room let out a collective breath.

The drums began to roll, building as I spun away from the audience into the center of the circle. Cupping my hands together, I blew hard into the candle, jerking back as it roared into a mighty pillar of flame, which I threw high into the air.

They exploded with a bang in a shower of bronze sparks.

The audience screamed and gasped as the sparks came together to form crackling orbs of magical fire which lit the floor.

Now the dance began.

The drums began to thunder, and I leapt up to spin, my skirt flying around me like a tornado. My hands folded into the Blossoming Flower, growing towards the sky, and I counted the beats to flicked my hands into Bird in Flight to twisting into a triple spin, spotting until my neck ached.

One-two-three.

I spun in a tight circle, never slowing.

I whipped my arm out and in, using the force to spin me on my toes and jump- arms trailing behind me as I leapt as high as I could, neck arched so far I could see down my back, legs so straight they almost curved.

The crowd hurriedly backed away to give me space.

I soared through the air like a bird, landing light on my feet only to leap into the air once, twice, thrice, higher and higher each time, swinging my arms around as I spun, leg snapping upright with lightning speed just before I landed.

I began Wind Blows Maiden’s Hair, snapping my skirt left-right-back and my feet pounded out the feverish beat of the music. A Shu dancer had to look beautiful yet chaotic- like fire- and this performance demanded nothing less than blazing speed and perfect timing.

The frantic staccato of the singers and the Heart Drums thudded through my chest. I kept a performer’s smile plastered on my face, and it felt stiff after the years of disuse.

I swung my arms up in a wide arch, craning my head towards the sky and flicking them down like wings. Phoenix Rises from Ash.

My head turned slowly, drinking in the amazed faces. I sculpted shapes with my hands, contorting them into graceful curves and sharp edges that ripples from one form to the next as I swung myself around.

Arms shoot out to balance myself.

They pull in powerfully as I spun like a top, never pausing:

_Yi, er, san, si, wu,_

The world blurs, colors and light bleeding together

_liu, chi, ba, jiu, shi,_

My smile was like a knife’s blade

_shi’yi, shi’er, shi’san, shi’si, shi’wu,  
shi’liu, shi’qi, Ai!_

Even with my near perfect spotting, my head felt light with dizziness.

The singers continue chanting in rapid-fire Shu as I crisply continued whipping my head around, extending the steps of the Wind Blown Leaf.

I used my momentum to pivot on my toes, leaping up in the air and slashing through the circles with my arm, my hands spinning through the air like blades as I pivoted aggressively, following their lead. My gestures were cutting. Fierce.

The Warrior in Battle.

My hands folded out and I spun once more, face to the ground as my skirts swirled around me in Autumn Moon, a circle of shining silk that surely looked like fire as I danced.

I twisted out of the spin and clasped my hands above my head as I spun, watching the light hover above me while the others became blurs.

The singers switched to stuttering tones to mimic the sound of the drums.

_Dak-dak-dak-dakee dadadek dumdala-de-deladadedum._

My feet pounded out another rhythm, and I swung the feathery silk skirts here and there, my torso swaying lazily. Snake Dancing with Mongoose. I twitched my head side to side, flashing a flirtatious smile one way and my long neck the other.

Throwing my hands into the air I spun hard and slowly stepped out of it. I drew my skirt out and placed a hand at my heart, transitioning from the feverish pitch of the introduction to the soothing melody of the legend. I spoke the words in a clear, melodic voice as I danced; the words coming back to me like an old friend.

 _This is a night of fire and flame_  
All the world is burning  
Come dance with me, and be my love  
And let us run away.

My hands reached out to the people as I whispered:

 _Let us run away tonight_  
Let us run away  
Come dance with me  
And be my love  
And let us run away.

The Shu drums kept time with the pulsing rhythm of the dance. I told the story through my dance and my words, as each movement represented of a different thing.

I touched my lips and smiled demurely.

_Oh, to have such love  
To embrace each other across worlds._

Bangles strung with fine silver bells echoed the song of the drums. The headdress dug into my scalp, the glass beads tinkling and flashing. Candlelight ran across my silk like gold streams. I threw my arms up and coiled my hands through the air, spinning faster than ever, my veil trailing behind me like a fine mist of blood.

HuoTiaowu. The Phoenix Dances. One of the most iconic examples of classical Shu dance.

I hands swung left, and right, and then they folded together, framing my face as my eyes glinted. The song slowly ended, and I extended my hand out in a fluttering twist. I curled it back towards my face, and gracefully sunk into a deep bow, chest rising and falling with each calming breath I took.

The drums slowed until they faded away.

I pick up the candle, now nothing more than a molten lump.

A lump that just happened to be shaped like an egg.

I stroke down it with one finger and it begins to glow like lava, cracking down the middle.

Light flickered through it like a heartbeat.

“From fire to ashes, you are reborn,” I whisper reverently.

“From fire to ashes, they are remade,” the room intones solemnly.

The voices echo through the room, en masse, and the egg crumbled into two red-hot embers in my hand.

Kaz stood silent, watching me.

Waiting.

Everyone holds his or her breath for the grand finale.

I smile.

Three.

Two.

One.

I tossed the egg into the air…

…And two phoenixes bursts from it with an earsplitting boom

Cries of surprise and awe burst from the crowd, and even Kaz can’t manage to hide his surprise as the Inferni-made firecracker shrieked through the air. Liquid flame sloughed off the birds in blistering waves as they orbited one another: silver and gold. Two souls united.

Their wings of flame beat in synch and as they pulse with pure white light.

Their light swells

Brighter and brighter…

Until they exploded with a massive bang, shards of silver and gold sparks raining down from the remnants like shrapnel.

I threw my hands up in celebration and cried, “Let the Festival of Light begin!”

The room roared in approval.

I rose to my feet and swept my hand out before me, dipping my head as I smiled; even after all this time, I had them in the palm of my hand. The audience whips itself into a frenzy, the fevered pitch of their applause reverberating through the room like thunder.

Never underestimate people’s fascination with the exotic, I thought smugly as I waded through the crowds of people, thanking them graciously as they threw fragrant blooms and glinting coins, applauding frantically.

People were too drunk and merry to be stingy- especially when they were up to their eyeballs in money. I pocketed the coins in the copious pleats of my dress. Naj would be getting a new book- and maybe some of that ridiculously hard-to-find candy... if I could smuggle it past Kaz.

A rough hand reached out, dragging me aside. I stiffened, fighting panic. Then I relaxed. I knew this man. Oh, I knew him. Very well indeed.

“What a beauty...” his breath stank of liquor; his voice made my skin crawl. “Little Shu doll. How much would I have to pay to have you all for myself...”

My lips curled up, baring my teeth. If he was able to see my eyes, he would have stepped back and run as fast as he could. “It depends on what you have to offer...” my hand slid down his shirt, and with a little smile, I pushed him off me to flounce away.

He leered after me, too drunk to know who I was.

I peeked at him around my veil and laughed, and I reveled in his drunken smile, because he had no idea what I had given him.

I slid through the doors of the back room, pulling off the heavy headdress and the clanking bracelets with brutal efficiency.

They felt like cuffs now.

“It’s done.” I nearly leaped out of my skin. Kaz has slipped through the door without me noticing.

I didn’t look up. “Ah. Which one this time?” I paused. “Is it that one merch who insulted Inej?”

“Yes.” There seemed to be a hint of approval...? Or distrust.

I gave him a look. “I don’t eavesdrop, you know. I’m just observant.” I left it at that. I pulled out a small, heavy purse, and plucked out a thick gold coin. Saints, that slimy pervert was stupid to carry so much money. He probably was used to spending gold on whatever caught his eye first: trinkets, food, women.

“You shouldn’t have taken that.”

I arched a brow. “He wanted to buy me for the night.” Hot fury simmered in my gut as I undid my necklace and laid it on the table.

“How long have you been waiting for him?”

“Over ten years.” A feral smile crept over my face. “Revenge is sweet indeed.” I spun a fat coin on the table. “Don’t worry. I replaced his purse with one of my own. “He’ll never know the difference until too late.”

“What curse this time?” He plucked the spinning coin off the table and examined it. His eyes flicked back to me.

I reclined in my seat, pulling off my shoes. “Not a curse. Poison.”

His eyebrow raised in an arch. “That can’t be all it is.”

“No.” My voice was cold. “The toxin is absorbed through the skin, causing pain, hallucinations, and eventually, death. No common or Grisha medicine can heal him.” I cracked my neck, arching it up and around to work out the soreness. Dancing with that headdress was a nuisance. “Cursemaker poison, naturally made. Very rare. Very hard to acquire.”

“Unless you’re you.”

I bowed my head. “Unless you’re me.”

“Fascinating,” he murmured. He seemed genuinely intrigued.

I snorted. Leave it to Kaz to be impressed by how I damned this man to a slow, agonizing death. “I’m rather ingenious when it comes to taking revenge.” I was darkly pleased with my own creativity.

“Why that man? You usually don’t go to such trouble to dispose of someone.”

I stopped smiling. “Why not?” I looked down at the piled of dense gold discs.

“How often did he buy you?”

I laughed hollowly. My husband was so very good at finding your weaknesses. “More times than I can remember.” Gold mist started to curl over the table, burning tracks through it. “He drank Silver Valley whiskey. Imported. The smell clung to me for days.”

Kaz stood silently.

“No matter.” I abruptly scooped the coins back into the purse. “Naj was eyeing a book with maps of Shu Han. Hand-drawn. Lots of footnotes about the regions and the culture.” I smiled affectionately. “He has rather expensive tastes, but I suppose I’ll indulge him.”

“You’re spoiling him.”

I rolled my eyes. “Not this again.”

Kaz’s lips twitched.

“He never asks for much. And it’s his birthday.” I shook my head ruefully. “In a few weeks he’ll be ten. Ten. Saints, time slips through our fingers like sand...Anyways, he wanted to learn about where I grew up. Honestly, I’m flattered.”

“He has an unreasonable obsession with the Shu Han.”

I smirked, sly. “Does it bother you that he likes Shu Han more than Kerch?”

“No.”

I laughed at the tiny scowl that soured his face. I started humming again as I unwrapped the long swaths of silk from me. The shimmering fabric fell away from my legs and torso, and I stepped out of them, wearing only my soft linen undergarments wound tightly around my breasts and backside. My body had rounded slightly, but after years of starvation and abuse, I had become a collection of lean muscle twisted bone for fighting and dancing. It was a blessing not to have a generous figure. Women who had them always seemed to draw the wrong attention in our business.

“I feel obligated to tell you not to stare,” I said as I searched for my hairpins, arms looped over my head.

His voice was sardonic. “Are you worried I’ll take advantage of you?” He didn’t look away, but he looked far from aroused. Or interested.

It was refreshing in an obnoxious way.

I scoffed. “Please.” I twisted my hair out of the aching, elaborate bun and coiled it into a loose knot at the base of my neck. “Modesty is a nuisance. Silk is hot as hell, and if men can walk around half-naked, why can’t women?”

“I can think of a few reasons.”

I shrugged. “It’s not like there’s much to see in my case,” I said wryly, referencing my ugly collection of scars, burns, and cuts.

His eyes slid down my back, charting the thick mat of cracked, ropy tissue. “You’re lucky those didn’t get infected.”

“Oh, they did. But I survived.” I appraised his lean form from head to toe with an analytical eye. “I have more scars than skin. You, on the other hand- I’d be lying if I said you didn’t have a nice body.” I thought. “You’d probably be better in bed than half the men who strut around, bragging about their ‘equipment’ with nothing to show for it.

Any other man’s face would have gone slack. Kaz only raised his eyebrows. “Excuse me?”

“Come now.” I began wiping the garish makeup off with a rag. “We’re both adults with children. Children come from somewhere, don’t they?”

Kaz watched me, faintly amused. “I find it hard to believe you were raised in a traditional, rural village in Shu Han.”

I gave him a wry stare. “I’m a woman, Kaz. My body stopped being my own the moment I bled.” I flicked the wrinkles from my shirt out with a satisfying snap. “Why should I shy away from sex when it has been forced on me so often in my life?”

Something hard and furious flashed across Kaz’s face for the briefest moment.

I pulled my shirt and pants on, still talking. “I also ask: why must women be shamed for their bodies, especially when our bodies are ‘the only thing we’re good for’?” I crossed my arms. “Women- girls- are given to men like cattle. Men do with them what they wish, and that’s perfectly acceptable. Why? Because they are women.” I was filled with disgust and anger at how the world treated these women. “Men are taught to take. Women are taught to accept. It is the chain we make for ourselves: one we’ve been taught to see as beautiful, not damning.”

“You could have gone into public speaking if you wanted to.” There was a hint of genuine respect in his voice.

I smiled tightly, still wound tight from my rant. “I could, couldn’t I? But…No. People are not ready to listen.”

“Some people are. You just have to find them.” Kaz pulled out the paper and began reading them in the candlelight.

I looked down. “I suppose so,” I said softly.

“You could never be worthless, you know.” He didn’t look up from the document.

“True,” I shrugged, “Since I’m the most powerful Cursemaker in centuries.”

He met my gaze and I swallowed a bit. “There are many kinds of worth in this world. Contrary to what I usually say, the most valuable things we possess are rarely ever money.” Kaz stated it like it was a fact, and I knew what was being said between the lines. You could never be worthless.

“I…” The ice in my heart cracked a little. “Well. You have your moments of humanity, Kaz Brekker.”

“Don’t get used to it,” he said, deadpan.

I smiled. It felt good. “Fair enough,” I conceded. “The day you become a noble human being is the day Nina gives up waffles.”

He went back to studying the text, but I caught a glimpse of a smirk.

I glanced at him and winked suggestively, trying to change the subject. _“So: did you like what you saw, my dashing Kerch prince,_ passion _of my heart?”_ I purred in An’Lin Shu, my voice oiled with an obnoxious amount of sex. A bawdy idiom came to mind and smirked. “ _Will your warrior’s blade endure this battle?”_

Kaz’s face was blank. “If you’re trying to seduce me again you’ll have to do a better job.”

“I thought I did fairly well.” I smiled slowly. “You Kerch can’t hide color easily, not with that pasty white skin of yours.”

He pointedly ignored me, but I knew I was right.

I began shaking with laughter at as I folded my costume and tucked it away.

He cocked his head at me, a smile playing around his mouth. “‘My dashing Kerch prince?” he repeated, his tone dripping with male arrogance.

I froze in disbelief and my laughter dissolved into a choke. Eyes watering, I jabbed a finger at him. “How is it you understand An’Lin Shu?!”

“I have my ways.”

“Of course you do,” I muttered. “Translate this: wobieni, Kaz Brekker!”

He picked a piece of lint off his black coat. “‘Hate’ is rather strong, don’t you think?” he answered in An’Lin Shu.

I scowled. “Don’t tell me that somehow you’re fluent.”

Kaz sat back, enjoying my irritation. “First off, I never said I was fluent. Second, I’m a fast learner.”

“Well, even so: you’re accent is atrocious,” I snipped.

“Most likely.”

“You can’t know everything I said.”

“I understood enough.”

Wickedly, I talked out loud to myself. “Most likely you’ve only heard basic An’Lin Shu. I doubt you understand idioms.” Kaz shifted. “You probably only understood enough to know I was making fun of you, but you most likely didn’t catch some of my colorful comparisons...”

I settled down again, feeling smug. “You didn’t actually understand everything I said, did you?”

“Your tone said plenty.”

“Ah,” I nodded. “I thought not.” I folded my hands primly. “I’d be glad to tell you what I said if you want.”

Kaz crossed his arms. “I can figure it out for myself.”

“Oh, I’m sure you will. It will just take you... a while.”

“Not that long. You’re not the only one who knows how to speak An’Lin Shu.”

“I’m one of the only people who knows it now. But you should know: every word in Shu has four different meanings, and unless you wrote down each one perfectly, I could be saying something like ‘I eat purple shoes on a pig this Sunday.’”

“I have a very good ear.”

“Suit yourself,” I sang, feeling high on my victory.

More silence.

“I’ve known you for a while, and I don’t think there’s one thing that bothers you more than not being able to figure something out...” I lounged in the chair and smiled. “If every day was like this I would die a happy woman.”

“You’re a strange person.”

“I’ve heard that from more people than you think.”

“Not surprising...”

“You’re wit is positively astounding.”

“It is, isn’t it?”

Without realizing it we had been leaning closer to each other until we were practically sparring with words. I loved it. It was like verbal sparring. Kaz remained stoic throughout our exchange, but there was something in his stance that gave me the oddest feeling that he was on the verge of smiling.

I was struck with the realization that I had never seen him smile at me quite like that. Like he was...“Are you ever happy?” I blurted it out before I could stuff the words back into my big mouth.

“What?” Our duel ground to a halt.

“Are you…?” I twisted my ring around my finger, suddenly awkward.

“I’m not a ‘happy’ person.”

“Dirtyhands, the most feared crime boss in Ketterdam isn’t a happy person? I’m blown away.” I laughed. Eventually, I forced my hands to stop. “I guess all I can say is I hope that someday you can be happy. Even though.... life has been hard for you.”

“Happiness isn’t the point of life.”

He had been happy with Inej. She was his happiness. And then she was gone.

I pressed my lips together and kept these thoughts to myself. “You’re right in a way.” I looked up, eyes far away. “Life is more than being happy. But that doesn’t stop me from wanting it for myself. Or Naj. Or you.” My face heated up slightly.

“Money is my kind of happiness.”

“No, it’s not. Not really.”

We sat in silence for a long time.

I didn’t realize how close we were, and purely on accident, my fingers twitched, brushing against a sliver of his bare wrist.

He inhaled sharply and jerked away. “Don’t touch me,” he gritted out, harsh. His face had drained of what little color it had, turning a sickly grey.

I blinked hard and buried my hand in my skirt. “I’m sorry,” I mumbled, my bravado lost. “I... it was an accident. Truly.”

The warmth was sucked out of the room.

He breathed like he was on the edge of being sick. “It was a mistake.” He took a tiny step back, and my stomach dropped. “We should head back.”

I jerked my chin, quickly twisting my hair back in a knot. I stuffed my costume and jewelry back into the bag and slung it across my back. We walked stiffly side by side, neither of us speaking.

Stupid. So stupid to think that things would be different. After all this time, back to square one, I thought dully as we reached our door. We had been “married” for six years, and still, I didn’t feel we would ever be anything more than business partners. I hadn’t wanted love and neither had he, because love cost too much; after the House- hell, after my first marriage- this arrangement had been a blessing from the Saints. And yet....

“Ma!” Naj Leapt towards me with a big hug and I staggered back with an Oof! I blinked down, my reverie forgotten for now. “Aiyo, you almost knocked me over! ” I scolded, feigning anger. He smirked, and for a moment all I could see was Kaz. I bent down and whispered, “Xingan. It’s late. You should be in bed!”

“I wanted to see you dance!”

“Maybe tomorrow, Naj. I’m very tired,” I whispered back.

“Alright...But will you make it a long story?”

I sighed. “Very well.” Chuckling, I touched his hair. “But just one- and then bed!”

“Deal,” he shrugged.

Kaz materialized in the doorway, tapping his cane. “No welcome? What am I, chopped liver?” His color had returned and he looked alright now.

Naj ran over to him and hugged him tightly, too. He craned neck up to peer up at his huge, towering father. “I’m sorry, Da. I just wanted to say hi to mother first.”

“I understand.” Kaz returned the hug with a small smile. “Now go to bed.”

“Not yet. Ma promised to tell me one of her famous stories.”

“Really?”

“I did,” I admitted with a small smile.

“Alright. One story. Then sleep.” He said firmly. He gently prodded Naj along with his cane, who snickered and began to purposely drag his feet, slower than cold molasses. Kaz finally gave up and slung his son over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He marched down to Naj’s room, cane louder than usual as he calmly juggled the squirming, laughing nine-year-old in silence.

I laughed as I watched Kaz dump his cargo onto its bed. “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” chirped Naj, rearranging himself into a more dignified position.

Kaz took a seat in the chair, stretching his bad leg out.

“You want to stay?” I asked, pleasantly surprised, and a little shy.

His eyebrows went up at my expression. “Is that a problem?”

“Not at all. But it is a little longer than the ones I usually tell.”

Naj cheered.

I raised my hands and small, glowing figures rose from the mist of my magic. “This is the legend of the Moon Maiden and the Fisherman. It is so loved by my people, that in my village, we greet newcomers- not by saying, ‘hello,’ but literally, ‘Niming’me?; what is your name?’ Why? Well, I will tell you.” I paused. “Naj?”

“Once upon a time…” Naj began grandly.

Kaz’s lips quirked.

“Once upon a time, when legends were just called life, the King of Heaven lived in the Jade Palace with his seven sons and his seven daughters. Each was tall and wondrous to behold- and all of them had a great skill. (The youngest of them all was very smart but very naughty; we call him the Trickster Prince, for there was nothing he did not dare!)

Naj grinned. “Those are my favorite stories!”

“I know.” I smirked meaningfully at Kaz. “It’s in your blood.”

“Da could draw rings around the Trickster Prince!” Naj boasted proudly.

Kaz inclined his head. “Probably.”

“Comparing yourself to a god, Brekker?” I snorted. “How very modest.”

“I detect sarcasm in that statement.”

“Da, shh!”

Kaz almost smiled, but he graciously let me continue my story.

“As I was saying… All the Children of Heaven were gifted in some way, but the youngest daughter of the King of Heaven, possessed a gift that was, what most of her family saw, a curse. She had the gift of mortality.

Now let me tell you: she was not like her sisters. She had a warm smile, a clear mind, and a kind, gentle soul. But she was not beautiful. She was ugly, and as a result, spent much of her life being ignored.

‘Look at our seven handsome sons!’ the Emperor boomed, patting seven strong backs.

‘And our six beautiful daughters,’ the Empress added, cupping six lovely faces.

But they always avoided looking at one small, silent figure, sitting alone with her face turned towards the sea. Eventually, they hardly remembered to remember her at all. Even her name was forgotten- and who can go without their name?”

Naj frowned. “Looks shouldn’t matter to her family if she’s a good person.”

I looked at him, sad but resolute. “It shouldn’t, but sometimes, it does.”

“Because she’s a girl?”

“Partially, yes.”

“That’s stupid,” he snorted, rolling his eyes.

“It is, isn’t it?” I laughed. “Well, she loved the sea- and the moon- so much, she decided to leave the Palace and live on the moon- forever.

‘Goodbye, father,” she said, bowing to him.

Her father grunted, too tired from a long night of hunting and feasting to answer.

‘Goodbye, mother,’ she said, bowing to her.

Her mother mumbled a reply, too busy with her pet nightingale to look upon her child.

She left, and didn’t look back.

And so it was that from the beginning of time, her job was to control the ocean's tides. Day and night, she watched over the world’s seas, and for ten thousand years, she lived in quiet solitude, watching over her starry sky and silver waters.

But one dark night, she saw a poor, ragged fisherman, caught in an unforgiving storm. Compassion made her soothe the angry waves and descend from her throne to save him.

He bowed low before her; for he knew she was a divine being. ‘Lady, you have saved my life. How can I repay you?’ he asked dutifully.

‘Help me find my name, man of the sea. And,” she paused, “would you tell me what it means to be human? You see, I have never known a human before, and I would like to now.’

The fisherman was taken aback by this last question. It was such a big question, you see, that he didn’t know how to begin to answer it. ‘I am but a poor fisherman,” said he, “but yes, I will try.’

A hundred days and a hundred nights they traveled, and in that time, he told her what it meant to be human.

What did she learn? She learned that this poor, humble fisherman possessed a special gift- a seeing without eyes. She learned humans make a thousand mistakes- and learn from them. She learned we live life for a single moment- and still find a way to make that moment matter.

And what did he learn? He learned that sometimes, the people who are meant to love us the most, don’t. He learned that, be they mighty gods or humble men, all people must carry their own kind of weight. He learned that immortality is the most worthless of treasures when possessed alone, for a life spent alone is not life, but enduring.”

Naj looked troubled by the statement.

“They spoke of many good things too, and soon, they did not feel so alone anymore.” I looked at the figures of light in my hands. “So when the time came for them to part ways, she took his hands, and asked him: ‘Who am I?’

He looked at a face he could not see, and yet, somehow, saw her ….So in a voice no louder than a whisper... he reminded her who she was.

Her joy was great as the moon, and she found the thread of immortality deep within her and severed it- once and for all.

‘You would live your life as a mortal?’ he asked in disbelief.

‘Yes,’ she said simply, without regret.

‘But, you will die.’

She laughed softly. ‘Everything has an end.’ She slipped her hand in his and smiled. ‘But life doesn’t have to be forever to be good.’

They left hand in hand, and all of their days were spent in great peace and happiness, and their descendants called themselves Yue’hai’i after the Moon Maiden and her beloved Fisherman. We tell this story to remind our children that we must live our life to the fullest, as they once did. So, if my people ask you, “What is your name?” It is because a name is the first step in learning to see a person without seeing. Our name and our love- these are things we cherish; things we share with an open heart.

For what is life without a name or love? Ah. Very empty indeed.”

Naj yawned happily. “The end.”

“The end,” I echoed. I snuffed the figures out with my hand, and the room dimmed once more.

“Thank you for the story, Mother.”

“You’re welcome. Now. Go to sleep.” I pecked him on the cheek and left the room to give Kaz some privacy. When I looked back, I saw him hug Naj goodnight. No gloves. No revulsion.

I shifted my eyes away and retreated back into the hallway. It did not do to dwell on such things. Every time I scolded myself for hoping for something I could never have. I needed to just accept it as the ways things were and move on.

Such a sweet, laughing boy. Too good for this world.

I knelt down and lit my only tiny candle. It was thin and dark red, and its smoke was heady with spices. The light never failed to calm me. I prayed to the Goddess of children that my son would never lose his kindness. Or his joy. I prayed for my girls to watch over him as his own sisters. For all I knew, my babies had died on the road. I prayed the God of Lost Souls for the soul of Inej, who couldn’t be here to raise her beautiful son.

I may have destroyed everything good in my life, but I wished with all my heart that Naj would never become so lost. Against all logic, I still held onto my candle and my prayers. On the worst days, I cursed the Saints as givers of false hope. On the best days, I lit the candle and prayed for the ones I loved. I reverently blew out the flame and bowed my head, stirring my hand through the ribbon of smoke.

“It smells like your candle in here.”

I didn’t lift my head. “Open the window if you want. I only had it lit for a few minutes.”

“It’s pointless for you to pray. The Saints don’t exist.” The same old dead tone.

“Maybe they don’t. I’m not asking for miracles out of a fairytale.” I deftly placed the candle back in its box and pushed it away. “Sometimes I just... pray. I ask for our loved ones who are gone to watch over us. I light my candle to give me the peace of mind to hope.”

“Did you have hope when you abandoned your daughters?”

I looked directly at him, expressionless. “No.”

He looked away. Grief can make people cruel. I knew firsthand.

I set my costume onto the lid of a trunk. “Don’t ever say I abandoned my daughters again.”

Kaz refused to say anything.

“Goodnight, Kaz.” The words were clipped.

He went into his room and shut the door.

I fell asleep before I knew it.

…

_What would I say, if I were to tell you about her?_

_Would I tell you how she was beautiful, even as a child? Would I tell you that she had the sweetest little laugh- the kind that you couldn’t help but smile to hear? Would I tell you that she was my aunt and uncle’s greatest treasure; that she was like me, but so much better?_

_Or should I tell you how we came here, to Kerch? How they would have paid a mountain of silver for her. Could I even begin to describe to you what they were planning to do to us- to the girls who were pale and pretty and completely alone in this cold, foreign land?_

_I don’t think you’d want to know._

_What I can tell you, though, is that when it was her turn, I dragged her from the auction block and begged the kindest man I could find to buy her. I can tell you how she tried to hold onto me: how her little hands grasped and clung as they wrenched her back; how she wailed when I kicked her away- wailed like a velvet-eared lamb being taken to slaughter._

_She’s learned to hate me, I hear._

_I’m glad she has._

_Because of all the things in the world, hate manages to keep even the weakest of us alive. Hope gives us light, but hate gives us fire in our belly and iron in our bones._

_Hate sustains us._

_Still, when I watch the last of my family being dragged away, all I can do is hate myself, and beg the Saints to let me die.  
…_

I heard someone roaring my name, and I wrenched myself from the dream, still howling, barely aware of Kaz’s hands wrapped around my arms hard enough to bruise. Black tears poured from my eyes, searing through the sheets.

My talons had dug into my arms in my sleep.

Blood dripped down from my ruined them, spattering along the floorboards.

I yanked myself out of his grip and wrapped my arms around my stomach, rocking back and forth. My head was spinning, and I could barely get a breath in; all I could do was gasp until I couldn’t stop gasping. I was hyperventilating

“Mama? What’s going on?” Naj’s fearful whisper peeked around the doorframe, and Kaz and I whipped around. His eyes widened when he saw me. “Mama?”

“Go back to bed, Naj.” Kaz said firmly. “Now.”

“What happened?” his voice was small and scared.

“She just had a bad nightmare. You need to go back to bed so I can talk to her.”

Naj nodded, slipping back into the dark.

“Meiyu.” Kaz turned back to me and wrapped his hands tightly around my arms, forcing me to look at him. “You need to calm down,” he said firmly.

I was breathing so fast my head was spinning.

Blood kept rolling down my arms in study pulses.

“Meiyu. Calm. Down.” His eyes fell to the blood coating his hands, mouth set. “You’re losing blood, and you’re going to pass out if you don’t breathe.” His low voice was the only thing keeping me from drifting away. It was a rope that tied me to shore.

But the rope was fraying. Unraveling bit by bit.

I took a shuddering breath in and closed my eyes, tears seeping through my eyelids.

“That didn’t happen.”

But it did, a voice in my head whispered.

My eyes slid to the healed scars on my arms. “No,” I whispered. “It was real.”

His hands loosened.

My sanity hung by a thread. I was disappearing like the Moon Maiden, fading away until all that was left was a shell; I felt a piece of me break off and dissolve.

And I began to disappear.

“Meiyu?” His brow furrowed as he took in my vacant expression. He gave me a gentle shake, and I turned my head to him, seeing nothing. The black tears receded, turning to saltwater. “You can’t keep doing this,” he said, hard now.

“Sometimes, I wish I had died in the War,” I told him.

He sat back. “Never say that again.”

I looked somewhere behind him, too far gone to care.

“You can’t do this again, alright?” He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “If you do, I’ll throw you out on your sorry Cursemaker ass and leave you to rot.” His voice was shards of glass that bit into my skin and then bounced off.

I felt myself shrink even smaller. He would do it. I know he would. Marriage or not- he would toss me out like the garbage I was, and I’d be alone.

Another piece of myself detached from my mind and floated away.

“Fight it, Meiyu.” There was a note of worry in his tone.

I wanted to answer, but it was like my whole body had turned to stone. I couldn’t do this anymore. I couldn’t. It was like every feeling every light inside me go out, one at a time.

His cane came down with a crack, and I flinched. “Fine. I’ll ask this one more time, and only once: do you want to leave him?” he barked. “Because if you do- if you leave him- I will throw you out. I will throw you out and you can find someone else to work for. You’ll lose the only family you have, and you will be alone.”

My heart shook.

“Is that what you want? Do you want to be alone?”

His words were harsh, but they drove through the ice that was spreading through my mind. They broke it apart and letting me swim to the surface. “No,” I managed. I didn’t want to leave Naj. I couldn’t. What would he do without me? What would I do without him?

“Alright. Good.”

I pulled myself from his grip and made my way back to my bed to pull the covers over me and roll to my side without a word. Curling into a ball, I stared at the wall for… a long time. My hair was cold and slicked down with tears.

“I wasn’t going to throw you out,” he said to my back.

I didn’t look at him.

A chair was pulled out and he sat down. “It’s been months since you’ve had one this bad.” I barely registered his voice anymore. “I thought it had gotten better.”

I didn’t have the will to say anything else. My insides had been scraped out, leaving me hollow.

“You can’t keep disappearing.” Kaz Brekker didn’t beg. He growled it out like it made him furious to have to say it. Fear turned to anger. “Do you hear me?”

I left myself drift off into an uneasy sleep, and finally, I just faded away.

…

It took everything I had to push through the suffocating weight of the previous night long enough and get out of bed. If I dwelled on it too long- if I looked back- I’d sink.

So I swam on and didn’t look back.

Of course this would happen again, but for now, I would pretend it didn’t exist.

It always came back, though…

Always.


	19. Reeling

I walked over to Wylan and Jesper’s place with Naj in tow.

We got some strange- even hostile- looks from people passing by. Walking by, you might wonder why a tall, golden-eyed Shu woman, dressed in bright dancing silks, rested her hand with such familiarity on the shoulder of a half-Kerch, half-Suli boy.

Foreigners were not an uncommon sight in Ketterdam, but a mismatched pair such as us drew more suspicion and disdain than the droves crooks and lowlifes that plagued the streets ever did. Those people belonged in Ketterdam. They made sense.

They made sense, but we didn’t.

Ironic, is it not?

The Shu were about as welcome as fleas to some her in Kerch, so it’s a sad reality that the sight of a Shu woman walking with a Kerch child was almost offensive to some; the fact that we didn’t look like each other meant that we weren’t “normal”, which, in turn, meant we were “wrong”, and needed to be “fixed”.

Such was the blatant hypocrisy of these people.

Once, when Naj was just a tiny thing, he had been playing outside under Kaz’s careful watch, when he tripped and fell, hurting his wrist.

Of course, Kaz tried to calm him down, but his approach at comforting a five-year-old was much to, ‘Stop crying it makes you weak,’ for my taste; that only made him sob even louder. It got to the point where I just scooped him up and held him to my chest so her could him bawl his little eyes out on my chest. It worked for my brother when he was little, and my daughters, and it seemed to work for Naj.

Sometimes children just need to cry.

Kaz said I was coddling him.

I said…well, not the nicest thing in response.

Naj, thank the saints, was too busy sniffling and catching his breath to see his Da and Mama having a silent war over his shoulder.

As it happened, Kaz had to leave for a quick business transaction (he was far from happy that I was the only caretaker to be found), but when he tried removing Naj from my arms, the boy clung to me and wouldn’t let go.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a touch smug.

When he finally gave up and left, a Kerch woman proceeded to cross the street- the street- so she could begin shouting at me to let him go. She informed me that a maid such as myself had no right to touch him- that I was dirtying him with my disgusting, yellow hands. Dirtying him!

It never occurred to idiots such as these that he might be my son, and I, his mother.

Her yelling scared Naj.

It pissed me off.

The woman was as bothersome as a mosquito to me, and my patience had run drier than a shot of liquor, so I forwent the sharp retorts I usually employed in situations like this and simply bared my dragon’s fangs in a vicious snarl, letting my eyes turn black.

She closed her mouth, turned white as milk, and ran.

I turned back to my normal self, and Naj burrowed deeper into me, much happier.

I took him back inside, and within hours it was clear his tears weren’t without cause: it turned out Naj had fractured his wrist, and my “coddling” was justified.

Broken wrists were nothing new to me, so I gave him some willow bark to chew on while I wrapped his wrist up in bandages and a splint, making sure the bones were straight and protected before I hacked off a chunk of ice from our box to rest on it. (I do admit to bribing Naj with some sweets so he would stop wriggling- but who cares? If it works, it works.)

When Kaz returned home, I told him just why his son was crying so hard.

He didn’t believe me.

Exasperated, I showed him Naj’s wrist before holding up my own bad wrist to remind him that maybe- just maybe- I knew what I was talking about.

He believed me.

He also made some comment about how Naj needed to learn to toughen up, how the world didn’t show mercy, etc. etc., but by that point Naj had taken it upon himself to wander in on our conversation, completely happy with his mouth full of treats.

A little sneak if I ever saw one.

I scolded him, but for the life of me, I couldn’t even begin to comprehend how a five-year-old child succeeded in pick-pocketing me.

Kaz was quite proud.

Anyways. That’s the story of how Naj fractured his wrist.

So, six years later, the stigma surrounding us was stronger than ever.

Luckily, I didn’t care, and neither did Naj.

Both men were expecting me, and I found it in myself to smile and murmur hello, stepping across the threshold after giving each a quick peck on the cheek.

The house was as opulent and overbearing as ever: draped in crimson and golds and warm, polished browns. It was everything our house was not: clean, rich, perfect. Except I saw a pair of Jesper’s shoes lying in a heap near the door, and a few pictures Wylan’s mother had drawn hung with loving care throughout the house, and Mr. Fahey’s potted plants sat happily soaking in the dusty sunlight, spilling over in glossy greens and dull yellows. It was an extravagant, overblown place- for sure- but there was a feeling of home that permeated the whole place, warming it to its core.

“So, what will it be this time, Meiyu?” Jesper’s smile was full of mischief. “Another reel around the ballroom?”

I drew myself up with ruffled dignity. “That was one time, Jesper.”

“Mmhm.”

He had caught me one time as I danced alone without music, singing an old drinking song as I spun around in circles. I didn’t know he was watching until he laughed.

And then applauded.

Wylan prodded him with his elbow and turned to his nephew. “So, what business today?”

Naj grinned. “We’re going out!”

“Out?”

I shrugged. “Naj wanted me to show him so real Shu dancing, so I thought I’d take him to the West Side for some street music.”

Wylan’s voice was carefully upbeat. “The West Side?”

“Yes.” The west side was where all the Shu lived now: the worst slums the Barrel had to offer. It was the poorest, most crowded part of the city…not very welcoming to any normal, ordinary, white Kerch. For me, though, it was my old home before I moved in with Kaz. People knew me.

Jesper stroked his pearl-handled guns with that wild gleam in his eye. “Now that sounds like fun!” He radiated pent up energy in the same way the sun radiated heat. “It gets so boring here…” he added wistfully. “God, I miss bar fights.”

Wylan shot him a look.

“You better not pull another one of your stunts, Jesper,” I warned. “I mean it.”

“But I’ve never seen a barfight before, Ma!” Naj piped up, much too enthusiastically for my taste.

My hand flew to my hips. “And you’re not going to for another ten years, at least!”

“Aw, Ma-“

“No! While you live under my roof I don’t want you anywhere near that kind of nonsense until you start taking it seriously!”

Smart-mouthed as ever, Naj said, “But I heard you laugh when you and Da came back from that one fight in the bar-”

“I’m an adult,” I growled, “and that’s entirely beside the point.”

“Hypocrite,” Jesper coughed in his fist.

Wylan pressed his lips together to keep from smiling.

I leaned over Naj threateningly. “You go to a fight like that, get shot, stabbed, strangled- boom!- you’re dead!” I leaned back up. “There’s no coming back from death!” I informed him seriously. “Nitingwo: death-“

“-Is like glue,” he grumbled.

“-Is like glue: it’s messy, and you never can get rid of it once it’s on you! It sticks!”

Naj didn’t even try to muffle his groan. “Ma, do you have to say that every time?”

“You moan and groan, but someday, you will thank me for making sure you didn’t listen to these trigger-happy idiots-“ I jerked my head towards Jesper- “and get yourself killed! Haoba?”

Naj looked thoroughly bored by my rant. “Yes, Ma.”

Hand on his shoulder, Jesper leaned down and said to my son with as much honesty as he could muster, “Your Da would have my head if I started a fight with you there, and your Ma’s right: you’re too young to be part of that, kid.”

I nodded firmly.

“Okay?”

“Okay, Uncle Jesper,” Naj muttered.

Eyes sparkling, Jesper beckoned him closer, and I just barely heard him whisper, “But just between you and me, bar fights are a lot more fun that she or your Da will ever admit-“

I narrowed my eyes.

“-So when you’re old enough, say, sixteen-“

“SIXTEEN?” I spluttered.

Wylan rubbed his forehead and sighed.

Jesper ignored us both. “-I’ll take you out, and we’ll have ourselves a good old-fashioned Ketterdam fight in the seediest, most revolting bar we can find,” he continued sagely. “How’s that sound, kid?”

Naj grinned in excitement. “Great!”

“Ha!” I snorted. “You’re not doing that until you earn the money to pay for your own funeral!”

“So you’re saying if I get a job…”

“Nadir Jordan Brekker! You are this close to being sent back to your Da so you can spend the day filing his paperwork!” I barked.

The sheer boredom of such a task made him cringe.

Jesper winked. “We’ll just have to wait until your Ma and Da are away.”

Naj smiled eagerly before I pushed him behind me. “Jesper Llewellyn Fahey, you ought to be horsewhipped!” I growled.

He laughed heartily as Wylan shook his head. “Really, Jesper, you’re awful.”

“I know,” he chuckled, “I don’t know how I do it.”

I hid my smile. “Enough. Let me show where I’m from.”

…

Fifteen minutes later and an uncounted number of glares passed before I swung around the familiar corner, letting myself smile wide at the sight of three bedraggled musicians haunting the busiest part of the street. “Ni ming’ma, my friends!” I called. “Business bad today?”

One of the men’s head lifted up from tuning his instrument. Langlang. His brown-gold eyes were permanently creased from smiles, and they turned to crescent moons as he grinned. “Hey, look, it’s Meiyu!” He prodded the man next to him, who lay snoring over his drums. “Wake up, stupid! We have company.”

The man opened his eyes and slowly came alive. He waved once.

That was Gege. Always silent.

“Meiyu.” The woman (the singer for the group) rose to her feet and clasped my hands warmly in greeting. “So good to see you.” She spoke in Kerch so that my company could understand. Her voice was soft and musical. “It has been too long.”

“Dui.” I pressed a kiss to her cheek and turned. “Daxia, these are my very dear friends: Jesper and Wylan.”

“Oh?” Her face was surprised. And more than a little nervous. “Jesper Fahey and Wylan Van Eck?” Wylan looked uncomfortable at hearing his old surname. “From the Dregs?”

Jesper, on the other hand, flashed his most winning smile and swept his hat off. “The very same.” He made his way over to his, kissed her hand, and smiled that dangerous, charming smile that seemed to turn men- and women, for that matter- to butter. “Pleased to meet you.”

She turned pink at his dancing eyes.

“Sorry.” Wylan yanked him away. “He can’t help himself.” He held his hand out. “Wylan Hendriks. It’s wonderful to be able to meet a friend of Meiyu’s.” His smile was less flirtatious and more sincere.

Daxia’s eyes darted down to his hand. Trying to figure out why a wealthy Kerch merchant was being so polite to a poor Shu street performer. She shook his hand-once- and pulled away.

“And who’s this fine young man?” Langlang boomed (in Shu, of course).

I turned around and smiled as I saw how Naj hung back, suddenly shy. “Lai. Lai.” I beckoned. He shuffled over and I placed my hand on his shoulder. “This,” I looked down, “is my son. Naj. He wanted to see me dance!”

Daxia winked. “Your Ama is the best dancer this side of Ketterdam has ever seen,” she said in Shu. Subtly testing him. “You’re in for a treat.”

Naj nodded absentmindedly, taking in all of the faces that were now staring at him in interest. He looked up at me. “Should I speak Shu around them?” he whispered, in Shu.

“Maybe not while we’re around your uncles. It’s not polite.”

“We do it all the time at home.”

I rolled my eyes. “That’s not the point.”

“You say that a lot, Ma,” he quipped cheekily.

“Nadir…” I warned sternly.

“Duibuqi,” he shrugged.

“You understand and speak Shu so well!” Daxia looked delighted. “Taihao’le!”

Naj grinned. “Xiexie ni!”

“He’s practically fluent,” Wylan said easily. “He’s one smart kid, that’s for sure.”

Gege gave him a thumbs-up.

Langlang’s smile was full of admiration.

Jesper chuckled as Naj preened like a peacock.

I tutted. “Why are you so quiet all of a sudden! Why can’t you be like this at home, hm?”

He smirked just like Kaz. “You told me not to talk to strangers,” he said insolently.

“Shush.” I strode over to Langlang and peered into the empty hat at his feet. “That’s it?”

“That’s it,” he grumbled.

“Well then.” I stretched and cracked my neck. “Let’s see if I can make my record, ei?”

The three of them grinned.

I stepped to the middle of the street and turned about. “Come one, come all, and see a dance- a dance from the East where the red sun rises and the waters run clear,” I called.

People stopped and stared.

The came closer.

“Come one, come all, and see a dance from the Old Country- a true YueHai’i kai’bala from the Dragon’s Spine!”

The drums started tapping, one beat at a time, and I closed my eyes and let myself sink deep into the music, feeling the pounding through my feet as I swayed my hips and twisted my hands into the air, stamping my foot: heel, toe, heel, toe.

One, two, three, four

_Tap tap tap tap._

The drums clapped and stopped.

Clapped and stopped.

I flicked my hands round and round and my feet bounced. My face followed my movements and I led myself into lazy circles.

Daxia burst into song, and I took hold of my skirt, swinging my arms up and down to the rhythm of her words, letting my hands curl and uncurl, twist with liquid grace.

 _Children of the dragons,_  
Have fire in their hearts!  
Golden fire, bright as day  
That twists and strikes like a snake!

I held my skirt out and jumped from one foot to another, my hand extending in and out, in and out. My bangles jingled merrily as Daxia chanted evenly.

There she sways and there she goes Leaps to and fro, To and fro Oh come my friends and be happy Dance to the music of the drums!

The instruments sang as I spread my arms outwards and twirled to the beat, face to the ground, feet stamping and turning with crisp precision, my arms turning in wide circles like a windmill.

I didn’t take my eyes off the ground as the world narrowed to this one point.

My long skirts floated up from the speed of my movements, and they spun and spun and spun, the intricate patterns whirling around me in a blur. My bare feet twisted and rose and stamped, kicking up a cloud of dust, pivoting me in place so I didn’t fall.

_Come one, come all, and join me,_   
_And watch this lady dance_   
_Look close- did you see that turn?_   
_So sharp it could cut like a knife!_   
_So swift it makes the wind jealous._

I twirled upright again and pulled my veil around to toss it aside, letting my arms rise above my head as I clasped my hands and spun, spun, my skirts hurrying to keep up.

_Come one, come all, and join me,_   
_And watch this lady dance:_   
_So graceful the birds stop and look_   
_So light the air seems heavy!_

A crowd had gathered and they clapped to the beat, smiling, looking to each other with friendship. No longer tired. No longer sad. Just people enjoying the music.

_Clap- stomp-clap-stomp clap-stomp._

Thankfully they were right on beat, and my spins were clean as ever.

_Come one, come all, and join me,_   
_And watch this lady dance:_   
_She has bangles on her wrists, yes-_   
_She has bangles on her wrist_   
_Oh, how they flash and shine_   
_The gold of the mountains!_

I eased out of my spin to take hold of my skirt and jump, jump, my feet and hand extending out, perfectly balanced even though I stood on one foot.

Daxia swayed as the instruments now took over- showing off their own skills.

My foot came down and I twisted my hands together, letting them flow like water up, out, down, up, left, right, feeling my skirts swish round my ankles as my feet followed suit, and then my neck, and then my head, and I twirled and twirled, chasing my elusive hands that seemed to have a mind of their own.

I looked left.

My arms followed.

I looked right.

My arms followed.

I cocked my head in invitation.

“Challenge!” People shouted. “Challenge!”

A single paper kruge was laid at my feet.

I eyed it and slowed to a stop, stepping behind it with my back to the audience.

Here goes nothing.

Hands reaching for the sky, I tipped up, curling in, felt my muscles groan as I leaned back, back, back, arching upside down.

Gravity dragged at me, but I held steady, lowering myself down inch by inch.

My palms touched the ground softly.

I craned my head back as far as possible and snagged the bill between my teeth.

A smatter of applause showed the audience’s apprehension.

An upside-down Naj smirked, and I winked. This was a performance, after all.

Slowly, excruciating, I arched back up, holding my battered kruge between my teeth. Hands held wide, I bowed humbly to the enthusiastic response.

The music redoubled, and I tucked the money into my collar. No longer spinning, my movements were still fluid as I turned my head and held my hand out to Naj, smiling. “What say you, good sir?” I called in Shu. “This dance is rather slow.”

A dare.

Naj grinned and cupped his hands to his mouth, howling, “Faster, I say! Or can you not? You haven’t fallen yet!”

A challenge.

People roared with laughter at that last part.

I swung my skirts and bowed.

My arms rose and drifted up and to the side as if blown the wind, twitching all of a sudden to curl behind my head as I spun again, grabbing hold of my skirts with both hands to whip it around.

Now this was going to be fun!

The heavy-yet-light fabric snapped up and down, pulling around me before spilling though the air, and I lifted them up so I could stomp and tap to the answering beat of the drums. I asked them a question with my pounding feet.

They stuttered and joked in response.

I asked them the question again, my hands flowing from on form to another while my feet tapped faster than thought.

They commanded and dared and didn’t let up an inch.

I obliged.

I swung my skirts around again, letting them flow behind me as I walked in a large circle before clapping twice.

And now for the grand finale.

Daxia began chanting now, sharp, clear, nonstop, and people stepped back.

Preparing for a show.

The strings moaned and sang.

I pulled my hands up before me, twisting, and let them shoot out before I began to spin even faster, whipping round and round in the small area that had cleared before me, my skirts now horizontal with the ground as they rippled and flashed through the air.

Dizziness whispered in my ear but I ignored it as I spotted.

The spins were faster and faster- frantic- freeing- and I let my arms swoop up and around and down again, spinning so fast that I could feel a breeze whoosh through me.

Everything became a circle.

My skirts- my vision- my hands that swung in and out, in and out, never stopping, never slowing- became circles too.

Circles in circles in circles.

I paused for a moment to twist my hands out playfully before spinning again.

The drums sped up even more as my feet turned and stamped and twisted to accommodate my dizzying pace.

_Spinning._

Spinning.

Spinning.

I didn’t have time to feel anything- think anything- but the constant circles and the music and the ground beneath my feet.

I loved it.

The chanting was a continuous stream now- almost panicked- and it made my heart race and leap inside me.

It made me feel alive.

I shot my arms out one last time and spun with breakneck speed, balancing on my toes and throwing my head back in abandon as I threw my arms wide and twirled.

The drums and strings plucked and faded.

I ended with my feet planted firmly on the ground, my smile wide, as I swung my skirts left, right, and slowly sank down into the soft disk of them, right there in the ground. Head bent, I pressed my hands to my forehead and extended them out.

A thank you

The crowd that now filled the street burst into applause.

Naj was grinning ear-to-ear and cheering with delight.

Wylan and Jesper stood with Nina- I didn’t even see her slip in!- and they all smiled and clapped along with the other Shu.

My brain felt like it had taken a ride on a top, but my heart was unburdened, and I felt more like myself than I had in a long while.

I rose to my feet and bowed again.

The crowd’s cheers redoubled.

Daxia walked up to my side and waved for silence. “Please, kind sirs, good ladies, if you like, come again! Or spare a coin, so we can play again!” she exclaimed in Kerch.

People glanced at one another and began searching their pockets.

Although they didn’t have much, their Shu generosity won over, and the flood of pennies came rattling down into Daxia’s hat like rain after a drought; there was one silver kruge, though, donated by a sheepish, albeit-smiling Wylan.

Soon it was filled to the brim.

“Here,” She pushed a handful into my palms despite my protests.

“Daxia, you need this-“

“No, no! They are yours, Meiyu. Please.”

My smile was a little forced. “I could not take so many.”

“No.” Daxia wrapped my hands around the mountain of coins. “Don’t worry, Meiyu. We have more than enough!” Her earnest voice was full of that pride we Shu seemed to have in spades.

I stifled my sigh.

If only she knew how wealthy I had become.

I pocketed a few- only to make her happy- but I employed what I had learned from Kaz and slipped the rest back into the hat when Daxia was distracted.

I smiled and held my hand out. “Now, my friends, I invite you to join me- join me for a dance, and let us be happy on this beautiful day!”

People glanced at each other nervously.

“Come, come! It is not hard.”

A few mischievous friends shoved their companions my way.

I narrowed my eyes as I caught Wylan trying and failing to disappear while Nina pointed frantically at him. “I expect you all to dance.” I looked meaningfully at Jesper. “All four of you.”

Jesper stopped laughing. “Four?”

I smiled.

Jesper drew himself up to his considerable height. “Jesper Fahey does not dance.”

“You do now,” Nina crowed, shoving him into my waiting grasp.

“Ha!” Jesper dodged me only to run into Wylan. “No!” He backpedaled furiously, which only encouraged Wylan to tighten his grip. “Wylan, let go, or I swear I’ll use these guns-“

Wylan leaned forward and pecked him on the lips, silencing Jesper long enough for me to loop my arm through Nina’s, and who latched onto Naj, who took hold of Wylan, who dragged Jesper along, moaning piteously.

We joined the wide circle of people now filling the street.

Our hands clasped tight. One group. One people.

Daxia grinned at me from across the way.

Jesper poked his head around. “Is this punishment for saying I’d take Naj out for a barfight, because if it is, I’m sorry!” he pleaded. “Please, Meiyu, have a heart…”

“Now,” I said loudly to everyone, blocking out the sound of Jesper’s whining, “this dance is very simple. Start with the right foot. You just step,” I took a slow step to the right, “cross,” I crossed left over right, “step,” I took another step, “kick,” I kicked with my left, “kick,” I kicked with my right, “and step.”

People fumbled their way through it and chuckled as they walked into their neighbor or stepped on each other’s toes.

“Now step, cross, step, kick, kick, step… and…” I nodded to the musicians, who began a slow, steady tune. (Ironically enough, the dance was Kerch, not Shu, yet all the people present recognized it in an instant- and knew exactly what they were in for.)

The music picked up just enough to get things moving.

Nina giggled as she not-so-subtly tripped Jesper.

Jesper scowled as Wylan trod on his foot.

Naj smirked at their collective incompetence.

_Step-cross-step-kick-kick!_

“OW! Ghezen, Wy, quit giving me that look?!”

“You’re just not trying very hard.”

_Step-cross-step-kick-kick!_

“I am too!”

“You’re really not.”

“Well I’m sorry if we can’t all be perfect like- damn you, Zenik! That is not funny!”

_Step-cross-step-kick-kick!_

“Honestly Jesper, you dance like a horse that’s been shot!”

“Shut up!”

“Uncle Jesper…”

_Step-cross-step-kick-kick!_

“Jesper, move, you’re holding up the line!”

“Alright alright! …But you… don’t know… how miserable… this is…”

“Jes, stop complaining and keep up!”

_Step-cross-step-kick-kick!_

We began to migrate around more smoothly now, people catching their natural rhythm, falling into place with the music, speeding up. Smiles grew as the dance became better and better, more and more confident.

_Step-cross-step-kick-kick! Step-cross-step-kick-kick! Step-cross-step-kick-kick!_

I held tight to Naj as I led the entire group in the reel my Gonggong had learned when he was a boy. Naj held onto Nina, who held onto Wylan, who held onto Jesper, who held onto a petite Shu woman, who held onto her friend, and we all of us step-crossed-stepped-kick-kicked!- our way around the curve, our feet a little faster, our kicks a little higher, each time we began again.

I tossed my veil back. “Faster?”

“Kuaile!” The crowd demanded. “Kuaile!”

Gege and Lanlang bent over their instruments.

“Get ready,” I warned the others.

“For what?” Jesper growled. “How could this possibly get worse?!”

Naj grinned. “Sorry, Uncle Jesper.”

The musicians nodded to each other and began to play even faster.

The crow roared and came alive as the music took full effect: it rippled down the line, closer and closer, faster and faster-

“Oh Ghezen.” Jesper shot his head around. “Oh God-“ He jerked along like a fish on a line- as I matched the music’s speed with ease, leaping into action, turning my head to laugh with Naj as he followed my lead.

Nina whooped like a madwoman and hauled Wylan along with her with.

Wylan- shy, blushing, Merchling Wylan- grinned so wide his teeth showed; it seemed that this was dance he knew as well as I. He wrapped his hand around Jesper’s and pulled- urging him to keep up with a wild laugh. I had never heard him laugh so freely.

Jesper looked slightly panicked as his long legs almost ran away with him-but somehow, he didn’t slow- didn’t stagger. He kept up. When he saw Wylan’s face, he began to smile.

I looked back at my friends, and then to the crowd, and laughed. “Gao-sai!” I cheered.

“Gao-sai!” They shouted back.

We held on even tighter and danced even faster.

_Step-cross-step-kick-kick-step-cross-step-kick-kick-step-cross-step-kick-kick!_

All of us flew 'round the circle like we danced on air.

_Step-cross-step-kick-kick-step-cross-step-kick-kick-step-cross-step-kick-kick- step-cross-step-kick-kick-step-cross-step-kick-kick-step-cross-step-kick-kick!_

Shu, Kerch, Zemeni, Ravkan, Suli- we smiled wide and laughed hard- holding nothing back.

We danced like it was the last day of our lives.

_Step-cross-step-kick-kick-step-cross-step-kick-kick-step-cross-step-kick-kick!_

Gasping for breath and giggling, I turned my head and saw a dark, solitary figure hugging the shadows, his cane a black line against the dull greys and dusty browns. Kaz. Leaning on his cane. Staring at me as I danced with the most unreadable of expressions on his face…as if he couldn’t understand how I could possibly be happy...

His eyes burrowed into me; assessed me for any cracks in my armor.

I swallowed.

_Step-cross-step-kick-STEP-_

I stumbled slightly and Naj corrected my misstep, hand tightening around mine, eyes flashing with mirth as he nudged me along and back into the proper steps.

Naj’s head turned and followed my gaze. He paused. Grinned slightly in a wordless greeting. But he didn’t call out to his Da. He only danced and danced and danced.

The song ended all too soon, and our hands fell away, separating each to our own, and clapped, cheering, thanking Langlang and Gege for their music.

“Oh, thank God!” Jesper broke away from the group and pressed a hand to his heaving chest. “I thought that song would never end. Ghezen- I feel like my heart’s going to explode!” he wheezed dramatically.

“You’re such a baby, Jesper!” Nina’s face was flushed.

“I thought…you were… the one… who…was more fit,” Wylan panted, hands on knees.

Jesper glared at him. “I’m not the one who looks ready to pass out, Merch!”

Poor Wylan. He really did look winded.

“I…do…not.” Wylan forced himself upright. “And don’t…call me…Merch.”

Nina looked more vibrant than ever. “That was fun!”

I wiped my own brow and turned to Nina. “Ravkan dances are even faster,” I laughed. “Even I had trouble keeping up with their speed when I was there.”

“Really? Where in Ravka were you?” Nina asked eagerly.

“Os Alta.” I hurried along. “I fought on the front lines of the Western Fjerdan border the day we secured it. We had been invited to the palace in celebration of a battle we won-”

Her eyes widened. “The palace? As in the Little Palace?”

I mentally winced. “Yes.”

“Saints. Are you royalty or something?” she joked.

I smiled thinly at how close she came to the truth. “The Ravkan’s thought I was just another stiff, boring Shu who couldn’t dance to save their life,” I continued before I got too deep into this specific conversation. “One of them (Nikolai- which I didn’t tell Nina) bet me fifty gold coins and a bottle of the finest Fire Liquor that I couldn’t keep up.”

Nina’s eyebrows went up as she laughed. “They lost,” she concluded.

“They lost, I got very rich, and my fellow soldiers got very happy, and very drunk,” I declared with a proud nod.

“That was a stupid bet,” a dark voice said directly behind us.

Nina and I both did our best not to leap out of our skins at Kaz’s very sudden, near-silent appearance at our sides. With his immaculate clothing, deathly-pale skin, and cold eyes, he looked like the ghost of well-dressed businessman come to haunt us.

“Ghezen, Kaz, don’t do that!” Nina spat. “You scared the living daylights out of me!”

I agreed wholeheartedly.

Kaz ignored her and spoke only to me. “I see you’ve been busy.”

I didn’t like his tone. “Is that a problem?”

“Only when you disappear and take my son with you.” His eyes flicked down to my arms. “Feeling better, then?”

I shoved my sleeves down my arms as I fought my angry flush. The deep cuts were scabbed over now; already beginning to scar. “Did you come here to be unpleasant, or do you want something?” I snapped.

“We have a problem.”

“Oh?”

“One of yours has been sighted.” There was something in his voice that gave me pause. “They sunk one of our ships. Everyone on board was killed.”

I sobered immediately. “Ghezen...”

“You’ve been asked to eliminate her. There’s a ship bound for the Western coast that leaves tomorrow. We both need to be on it.”

“I don’t sail.”

“This isn’t something you can negotiate on.”

My stomach had dropped so far I felt as though I was stepping on it. “Kaz-“

“You’re going, Meiyu.”

Nausea rolled through me. “This had better be the fastest ship they have.”

“It is.”

I nodded, eyes closed. “Let me say goodbye first.” The sun was high in the sky now, but I couldn’t feel its warmth. People walked away from the corner with a new spring to their step: a lightness that wasn’t there before.

It was a rare thing to see so many happy.

I slipped back to my friends. “I’m sorry- I must go. I need to do-“

They all cracked my bones with their embraces before I could say another word.

“Bye, Meiyu,” Daxia whispered.

“See you soon, my girl,” Langlang murmured.

Gege only smiled as he kissed me on the cheek.

I hugged Naj and laughed as he teased his uncles and told me how well I had danced, but my smiles had lost their joy. I knew what I had to do. I knew this was what the job entailed. But I feared it. I feared what I knew was coming. The ship was one thing, but the Cursemaker…the Cursemaker was worse.

Much worse.


	20. Sailing, Fishing, and the Sea

We stood on the dock, the boarding plank extending out in deceptive welcome. 

Meiyu looked more like a terrified girl than the feared Cursemaker assassin.

“This isn’t like then.”

She nodded shakily. 

“’urry up, will you?” a voice shouted down at us. 

“Shut the fuck up!” she shouted back, voice tinged with hysteria. 

His angry response went silent when I gave him a long, hard stare. 

Her nails dug into her palms so hard I saw threads of blood slide down the creases in her hands. “This isn’t like then.” I could tell by the expression of pure panic she didn’t believe a word she said. She took a step onto the board and shuddered so hard her teeth clacked. “This isn’t like then.” 

Another step. 

Step by step she made her way up, but the moment they touched the rocking deck, her legs wobbled and she looked close to fainting. “Oh gods.” She swallowed audibly. “Oh gods.” The look in her eyes was nothing less than sheer panic. Air hitched in and out of her, faster and faster, with no slowing. A few more minutes and there was a good chance she’d work herself up into enough of a frenzy to pass out. 

I had, after all. 

The man’s irritated bellowing made her head jerk up, and in one vicious swing, she leveled a blast of pure energy at him that made him topple overboard with a tremendous splash, garbling the obscenities that he hurled at her. 

Scales rippled across her like a mirage as she shook. “I’m having a little trouble,” she said between her teeth, “… staying in control.”

I knew what she meant. “If it keeps you from doing that again, than no.” 

With a twist of her neck she collapsed into herself, the bones shifting, popping, rearranging, until a Shu Serpent slithered its way on deck, hissing left and right as the crew fell back with an oaths and prayers. It’s talons dug into the swaying boards for dear life, and instead of going down to the cabins, it snarled at the terrified lookout and practically chased him from his spot at the crow’s nest. 

I’ve never seen a person climb down so fast. 

The dragon ignored the rope ladder and wound its way up the mast itself- up until it nestled onto the tiny cup of the nest and sat there like some overgrown snake sunning itself. By the looks of her stranglehold, she was determined not to move. It would have been laughable if it weren’t so damn terrifying. The wood groaned under her weight, but her tail wound around the mast, and she stopped swaying. 

Again, I wondered at how my life had gotten to this point. 

“This better be a joke, Brekker.” 

I drummed my fingers along my cane. “I don’t joke, captain.” 

“That thing is making the whole ship list!” 

“She’ll get down.” I glanced up and saw her glaring at me. “Eventually.”

“It should be muzzled and put in the hold with the rest of the cargo!” 

I turned to the captain, who, ironically, looked ready to breathe fire. “Would you like to do the honors, captain? I’ve heard Shu dragons are extremely tame.” My voice was layered with ten kinds of sarcasm. 

“I-“

“If you have a problem, by all means, speak to her yourself. She’s quite intelligent.” 

I heard her growl. 

“I’ll not sail with that abomination!” His shout echoed across the harbor. 

“Then your services are no longer required.” I scribbled out a check for his agreed payment and held it out to him. “Unless, that is, you’d like to continue to be employed.” 

“How dare you-“ 

“If I wanted someone who knew which direction west is, I could have pick any idiot off the street-“ he went from red to purple- “but you’re here because you know how to sail, and better yet, you know how to keep your mouth shut.”

I felt the eyes of his entire crew on us. 

“I’m the captain of this ship, not you!” he growled in a surprising bout of bravery. 

“And I didn’t pay you to waste my time.” I shredded the check and leaned on my cane. “I suspect you want to feed your family, yes? Take care of your wife, make sure your children don’t go hungry, keep them off the streets and out of the gutters...” 

His jaw worked. 

I brushed dust off my coat. “So give me one good reason why I shouldn’t find myself another, more adept, captain to take your place.” 

“It has to come down,” he grit. “We can’t sail properly if it doesn’t.” 

There. Something other than tiresome whining from him. 

We both looked at the scowling dragon above us. 

Her eyes were heavily dilated as she squinted balefully at us both. Her long neck snaked down to level with him, and she showed her rows of white fangs, blasting air so hot at him it made a forge seem lukewarm. 

His face went from red to white. 

“Saaail, you oaf!” she snarled. 

“It s-s-speaks!” he breathed. 

I fought the urge to roll my eyes. 

“Ghezen…” 

I sighed. “Get down, Meiyu.” 

Meiyu clambered down the mast with unnatural grace, grumbling the whole way. At least she wasn’t so petrified. We all would suffer if she had one of her flashbacks. Her body swayed with the ship, the floor trembling with each step she took, and in three strides she towered over him. A single black talon the length of a hunting knife pinned him by the chest and forced him to the ground. “Ssssail,” she hissed. “Now.” 

He had to look of a rabbit face to face with a starving wolf. 

The talon lifted and he staggered away on weak knees, bellowing orders at his crew as he mopped his sweating face with trembling hands. 

“Thanks to you, he can barely stand,” I observed. 

She smirked, but it was heavily strained. 

We began to move, and her claws dug into the wood, a thin snarl curling out of her. 

“Are you ever going to transform back?” 

A tense shrug. 

Her expression became more and more panicked the farther we got from shore. Her scales rattled faintly as she wheezed. The wind picked up and we began to pick up speed, and the docks of Ketterdam shrunk from view until the city was nothing more than a faded line against the blue water. 

“This is going to be a long trip,” I murmured, passing a hand down my face. 

Cords of muscles rippled as she twitched. A ripple of magic flowed off her and began singeing through the solid wood. 

The acrid smell of smoke and tar drifted along the breeze, but no one dared raise their voice at her. They were too scared. 

“Meiyu. If you don’t stop that we’re going to be thrown off this ship.” 

She snarled at me, her slitted eyes telling me to “shut the fuck up”. 

The ship hit a wave and she moaned. 

Judging from her rigid grip and her rolling eyes, she was in control, but barely. I was surprised she hadn’t set the whole place alight by now- or worse- fall into a flashback and slaughter everyone on board. Belly low, she crept her way across the ship and heaved herself overboard before I could yell at her to get back here, now. 

Her tail flipped over and she slipped into the sea with barely a splash. 

More than a few of the crew heaved sighs of relief. 

I strode over and peered into the water. “What the hell are you doing?”

Two golden eyes blinked at me from the icy waves. They looked calmer now. Her horns disappeared as she sunk beneath the water. She dove deep and resurfaced, breathing deep and serene. A second pair of transparent eyelids sliding back from her gold eyes. 

She couldn’t sail, so she was going to swim. Obviously it wasn’t the first time she had done it. It was an insane way for her to travel, but if it worked… “You better keep up!” I called above the wind. “No ones going to fish you out if you drown.” 

A massive shoulder shrugged. Her serpentine body whipped back and forth as she swam- much like a snake. I had no idea how long she could keep this up: she was strong, but judging from how hot she ran, I didn’t think she would be able to endure more than an hour of swimming in such dangerously-cold waters. 

She swam the entire day. 

I checked on her once to inform her she better stop. “I’m not losing my investment to a bout of ill-planned swimming,” I informed her. 

Her response was to shower me in an icy spray as she shook herself. 

“Do that again, and your fired,” I warned, wiping my face coolly. 

Her eyes narrowed. Silent as ever, she dipped back under and sunk beyond sight. 

“This isn’t a game, Meiyu,” I growled to her shadow. 

I watched as her tail beat down in with a mighty stroke, and she arched up to leap clear out of the water like the whales I’d seen once from a distance. She hung suspended next to the ship- nearly forty feet from snout to tail- before bellyflopping down as gracelessly as possible. 

Only thanks to my fast reflexes did I manage to jump back and avoid being doused in the thick sheet of icy water that crashed on top of my feet, soaking through my shoes. 

Her expression was more than a little smug.

I stormed off and didn’t come back until I felt her climbing back aboard. 

Swimming like that was the stupidest thing I’d seen her do in a long, long time. Also, catching hypothermia and dying on the way would make this project hard to carry out. 

I told her so when she crawled onto the deck and collapsed in a heap, panting and shivering violently. 

She bared her teeth from where she lay, no longer smug. 

There was a real danger of her internal body temperature falling too far. 

The black scales seem to reflect every bit of light from the last rays of the sun like a thousand tiny mirrors. Still shivering, she twisted her neck around and breathed in deeply, her chest expanding. Rich gold light leaked from between her scales, spreading out from her heart, and she exhaled slowly, painting her sides with a tiny stream of fire. It licked along her body: white-hot and tipped with blue. Water hissed and evaporated into steam, which spiraled off of her. The black scales darkened red as they soaked in the flames, flickering and crackling as they absorbed the heat in the same way stones did in a hearth. 

I felt the warmth envelope me in waves. 

It didn’t feel half-bad, to be honest. 

She ruffled her scales contentedly and basked in the glow, eyed glazed.

“I…didn’t know you could breathe fire,” I managed. 

An amused grunt was my reply. 

Saints. Would I ever get used to this?

“You missed dinner.” 

She nodded absentmindedly. 

Lazy, she lumbered to the edge of the ship and craned her neck over. A line of her magic was produced, and she lowered it into the water like a fishing ling. She yawned. Blew some more fire onto her. And waited. 

And waited. 

And waited. 

I didn’t know why I still stood there, watching like a fool, but I didn’t leave. 

The ship tilted for a moment. 

I heard someone swear. 

Meiyu barked in excitement as the line went taut. 

She tightened her hold on it and reeled it in. Her eyes tracked a movement, and she hurled her body down- forward- struck, fast as a viper. 

I heard the succulent crunch of bones snapping as teeth sunk into flesh. 

An enormous, monstrously ugly silver fish was hoisted up, oozing blood, bitten nearly in half. 

It dropped to the deck with a wet, heavy slap. The head was connected to the body by the thinnest strip of skin. Thick red-black blood seeped from its gills. 

She turned to me and grinned proudly. Translucent scales were wedged between her teeth, along with chunks of pale pink meat streaked with blood. 

It was both terrifying and absurd. 

“You could have just gotten some leftovers from dinner.” 

She made a noise of disgust. 

I couldn’t blame her. The stew tasted revolting: salted meat- tough as leather- and broth so thin sweat would have been thicker. 

A single talon sliced off a small cut of meat, which she held out to me. “Want?” she asked easily, as if sharing a meal of raw meat was an everyday event. 

I stared at the fish that sat in front of me. It glistened in the faint light; the thin lines looping around the pale pink flesh. The oily, fishy stench I was accustomed to smelling was a pale afterthought- a second to the clear, fresh scent of salt and water that wafted from the soft meat. 

I knew the Shu sometimes ate raw fish. I didn’t judge them for it. 

But I wasn’t Shu. 

At all. 

“No,” I said. 

She rolled her eyes at my less-than-polite answer and popped the piece in her mouth like a snack. 

Her claws pinned the fish down, and right before my eyes, she tore into the body with all the savage gusto of a predator half-starved. White teeth became tinged with red. Massive hunks of flesh were torn off and thrown back, only to be gulped down with a few bobs of her head as she worked to swallow the biggest pieces. Nearly sixty pounds of raw fish disappeared down her gullet in the span of a few minutes- bones, guts-even scales. Everything has to eat, I supposed. But what did I expect her to do- scale and gut the fish so she could season it with salt and pepper and slow roast it on a spit in order to enjoy it with a knife and fork? No. 

A red tongue licked the blood from her talons, and, as an afterthought, the disemboweled head was happily consumed for good measure. 

Waste not, she always said. 

All that remained of her kill as a smear of blood and a sprinkling of scales. 

She jerked her head towards the water. Hungry? 

“Not anymore.” 

A chuckled rumbled deep in her chest like stones falling down a mountainside as cleaned her teeth of scales with a mouthful of saltwater. 

“That was nothing short of disgusting, Meiyu.” 

Her smile was feral. “Where do you think meat comes from, silly human?” it mocked. 

Sometimes I forgot the animal that prowled inside her. 

She hid it well. 

We all did.


	21. Confrontation

Two full-grown Cursemaker’s faced each other in the smoking ruins of a village. 

Every man, woman, and child had been killed. 

The woman was tall and startlingly beautiful, but young. A little older than Naj. Her eyes could have been Meiyu’s, but they had more green than gold. 

“Traitor.” She spat at Meiyu’s feet. There was nothing but hate and disgust in her. “Whore.” 

Meiyu slipped her silver mask off. “You’ve grown, YuYan,” she said mildly, conversationally. 

“It’s been a long time since the Crossing.” 

There was deep sadness in her. “I was trying to save you from becoming this.” 

“You’re a liar and a Ketterdam slut. Your word means nothing.” The girl drew herself up, and smiled viciously. “I survived. I made myself strong, just like you told me to.” 

“Our home was destroyed like this,” Meiyu pointed out. 

“Do you dare judge me?” she hissed. 

“No.” She looked like she had aged ten years. “We become what we have to be to survive.” 

“You’re here to kill me!” Her laugh was wild and reckless. “I’ll take you with me, then!” She thrust her hand out and a crackling bolt of energy arched towards her. 

Calm as quiet, Meiyu swung her arm upwards and blocked it. 

The bolts ricocheted off and blasted a crater near the girl. 

A warning. 

Her expression turned ugly in its anger. Without warning a wall of flame swept out from her, spiraling and folding in on itself and it climbed up towards sky air to form a massive lion that opened its maw and roared, towering above us higher than any building I had ever seen. The fires itself crackled and hissed like a living thing. The ground shrank from the unforgiving heat, splitting and cracking as the lion prowled closer, tail whipping across the yellowed grass, igniting a fire that raced through the parched fields with deadly speed. 

The lion snarled, crouching low. 

“Sweet Ghezen above,” a man whispered. 

With a growl, the beast leapt at Meiyu- nearly engulfing her- but she merely swept her hands around herself and pulled the fire with her, molding it together in the palms of her hands before shoving it away from herself in a vast ring of flame. 

Alarmed, the girl parted the wall of fire. 

She barely avoided being consumed by it. 

Viscous liquid slid from her hands and hardened into glinting spears, which she flung, one by one, at a stoic, immobile Meiyu. The obsidian poison ate through the earth and rocks like acid through tissue paper. It pocked the land until the battlefield was riddled with smoking holes. 

But not one touched Meiyu. 

Her hands slashed faster and faster, harder and harder, but to no avail. 

Now, each shaft of acid that hurtled towards her was transformed into straw, which fluttered to the ground. Meiyu hadn’t even moved an inch. She just stood- hands twisting gently- barely blinking an eye as blades of steel- walls of stone- shards of glass- bared down on her, pounding against her shields with merciless intent, only to dissolve into dust or evaporate into mist. 

The girl screamed in anger and clenched her fist.

We watched as the river itself obeyed, pouring out its lifesblood for her. Water swept in across the meadow, tumbling head over heels before leaping up, up and into the air to harden into ice and shatter into a thousand sparkling pieces. 

The sound was every window breaking at once. 

It was a vicious, brittle sound. 

The shards of ice sharpened into knives.

Meiyu watched them form, face solemn and far from worried. 

The ice blades rose into the air, spreading across the sky like a flock of starlings. 

Their shadows expanded and grew to darken the fields themselves. 

“Saints preserve us.” The man sounded faint as he crossed himself. “Saints preserve us, child.” 

The boy next to him gasped as the shards swooped up and dipped, speeding down- spinning as fast as one of Inej’s blades- racing towards the lone figure standing in the middle of a wasteland. There was something hair-raising about the sound of them cutting through the air: a thousand shards of ice singing one high, eerie song. 

Again, Meiyu raised a hand, and the ice dissolved to become mist, which drifted down around her; the faintest rainbow caught the light before disappearing. 

She wasn’t even fighting. She was defending. Stalling. 

And yet as she fought the girl, she didn’t look the part of a world-renowned Cursemaker, winning an impossible duel. She looked more the prisoners who felt a noose tighten around their necks before the ground opened beneath their feet. 

The girl’s face was crumpled in concentration as she swung her arm around and sent a massive, relentless blast of black matter towards Meiyu. 

She deflected it with a snap of her fingers. 

It veered to the left of her, shredding the soil down to the clay. 

The girl clenched her teeth as the blackness screamed across the ground, tearing furrows into the rich soil, thrumming with raw, unrefined power. It poured from the girl- faster and faster- whipping her hair around her like a black cloud as she snarled. Her thin arms trembled from the strain. A sheen of sweat shone on her brow. 

“You’re wasting energy, YuYan,” Meiyu barked. 

Her face was pale with fury and a growing sense of frustration. 

Meiyu cupped her hands to her and gathered the dark to her, stumbling slightly from the sheer force. Her hands shook only slightly. The pulsing whoosh of the magic seemed to be absorbed, more and more, with every passing second Meiyu contained it. No. Not contain it. Pull it. She drew it from the girl and claimed it as her own. It was a muted process. 

Unnaturally quiet, I thought. Sinister. 

The girl’s eyes widened as she backpedaled, frantically trying and failing to pull back.

Meiyu curled her hands in. “This has to go somewhere, you realize that.” 

The attack only intensified. 

Her mouth thinned. “Keep going and you’re going to kill yourself.” 

The girl screamed at her then, and I couldn’t hear the rest of what she screamed, but from the increasingly icy look on Meiyu’s face, it wasn’t anything good. In an act of mindless wrath and growing desperation, she ended her magical assault and launched her, barehanded, towards Meiyu, who stood unmoving, eyes hard as steel. 

“Don’t call my son a half-breed,” she said coldly. 

She opened her hands and released the magic in one fatal blow. 

The world went silent as all of the power exploded out from her in near silence. 

Even the light from the sun seemed to be sucked in. It was expelled out in a blinding white flash as the air around her detonated out in a wavering disk. 

Which meant-

I covered my ears. 

BOOM!

The ear-splitting blast that followed the light rattled my teeth in my skull. 

From our safe spot, we watched in wordless awe as the entire landscape flatten with the ease of a child stomping on a paper toy. Miles of long grass became a mat. The smooth mirror of the lake bowed out and curved. Row after row of trees fell with uncanny precision from where they stood in the distance. 

I’d never seen a volcano erupt, but I had heard stories; rumors of far-away lands and ancient civilizations being buried under tons of molten ash and stone after a mountain turned to bomb. 

This must have been what it was like to witness such immeasurable destruction.

It swept over the girl: ripping through her shield with bone-crushing force. It lifted her clear off her feet- launching her high and far before gravity took hold and she fell, twisting and shrieking, finally connecting with the hard ground in a sickening crunch of bones. 

The silence that followed was hollow. 

Meiyu lowered her hands. She pushed her veil back and quickly advanced on the crumpled form of the girl who lay on the ground, whimpering, her spine twisted at a stomach-turning angle. There was nothing to heal a hurt like that. 

She knelt next to her and touched her head, whispering. 

The soft cries faded as the pain was drawn away. The girl looked up in confusion. Her blank eyes were wide and terrified. A child. A child, staring into the face of death. 

Meiyu held her hand and spoke to her softly, stroking her hair like she did with Naj. 

The fear lessened. 

The air slipped from her lungs. 

The burning eyes went cold. 

It was a long time before she walked back to us. Dark, bruise-colored rings circled her eyes, and she seemed smaller; older and more tired. 

The man approached her, and she stiffened as he took her hand in his calloused one. “Thank you,” he whispered reverently.

“Why?” she said flatly.

He blinked. “Why? You saved our lives!” he exclaimed.

“I killed a child.”

“You killed a monster,” he growled. 

Without a word, she pulled her hands out of his and walked away.


	22. Secrets (Year 7)

The twinge in my arm faded as the woman withdrew her hand. 

I glanced at her dispassionately. “Well?”

Her face was a mask of serenity. “It is as you guessed, your grace. I would advise you to stop now, for your health, but I understand why you will not.”

“Thank you.” The cut stung as I dabbed away the smear of blood, but I felt it in the most distant part of my mind “Your understanding is greatly appreciated, A’Lam.” 

She bowed her head. “I am here to serve, your grace.” The small tin of pills was pressed firmly into my hand. “Once a day for the next two years. Double it if there is any great strain on yourself, but no more. It is dangerous in itself if taken too liberally.” 

I rose to my feet and clasped my healer’s hands. “Until next year, then.” 

“We await your return most eagerly, your grace,” she replied gently. “Especially now.” 

“I am strong,” I told her, “and I have fire in me yet.”

We exchanged farewells, and as I walked home, I realized my birthday had long since past. 

Just another year ticking by, like the hands of a clock; like the ticker on a bomb. 

Always moving to the end. 


	23. Chicken and Noodles

Naj clutched the doorframe, wondering how to approach her after what had happened. “Ma?”

She didn’t turn around. “Come here.” 

He didn’t move. Her hands were streaked with blood and gore, and the sight and the sound of her knife sawing through the mutilated carcass turned his stomach; he’d seen her prepare meat a hundred times over, but now, it made him afraid of her in a way he’d never felt before.

“Come here.”

He stepped up, eyes drawn to the floor. 

“I won’t lie to you.” She whittled the fat and vessels bloody away from the meat, pushing the liver, neck, and feet aside with the flat of her blade. “Ask whatever you want.”

His voice came out as a whisper. “Have you done… that, before?”

“Yes.” Her voice was hard. “Many times.” 

“Did he hurt you?”

“No.” She switched to a different knife and began cutting the chicken into pieces: the breasts. The thighs. The wings. “But he wanted to.” 

He swallowed. 

A man had grabbed her- and before he even knew what was happening, Ma had taken hold of the man, broke his wrist, and cut his throat with her own talons. She had stood over him as he choked and died: her normally gentle face twisted with terrible satisfaction.

Afterwards, when she marched Naj past the silent crowd and out of that awful, seething den, the feel of her blood-sticky fingers made him recoil.

He’d never thought anyone could bleed so much. 

The moment they were alone she had backed him into the alley, eyes still black with rage, and ordered him never, ever, to touch a woman like that. 

He’d been too numb to do anything more than nod. 

She’d gazed down at him, and something deep inside her seemed to crack. “This is what I am,” she had said harshly. “Ni ting’dong ma? This is what I have to be.” 

He nodded as if he did, but standing there- staring into those viscous black pits- he had been scared and confused: scared because of what he’d seen lurking behind his mother’s eyes, confused because she sounded close to tears. 

Now, he didn’t know how to talk to her.

He didn’t know how to love her and still be so afraid. 

“Are you sorry?”

He knew his answer the moment she looked at him. 

Tight-lipped, she bent over the meat, sawing harder than ever. 

It had been so…easy… to love Ma, he thought. (He loved his father- of course he did- but there were times when Da was stern and hard and almost cruel, and that, in turn, made Naj awkward and vaguely uncomfortable to be alone with him.) He loved and admired the man people called Dirtyhands- and yet- he was beginning to feel like he’d been the one trick Dirtyhands had never prepared for. Everyone said he had her eyes, and he had the nagging feeling that Da saw her every time he looked at him. 

He could barely imagine a time before Ma- but he did remember a few things about her. Her voice. Her warmth. The way her arms felt wrapped around him; the way she’d made Da smile. She’d made his father happy in the way he couldn’t- wouldn’t- let himself be now, and when she was lost, a hole inside him had ripped open. 

Sometimes, it felt as though Naj was the only person who could fill that hole. 

Sometimes, he wished he didn't have to.

“It’s alright if you’re afraid of me,” his mother said suddenly, full of steel and sorrow. 

He blinked. 

“I wouldn’t blame you,” she continued evenly. “I’ve done… terrible things to survive- things even the kindest person couldn’t forgive- and- I can’t-” The sawing increased, and she grit her teeth in frustration, abandoning the knife to snap the bone herself. 

He flinched at the sound. 

She bowed her head like the weight of the world had settled on her. “I’m sorry.” It was a long time before she was able to take up the knife, and even when she did, her hand shook. 

He didn’t know what to do, what to say to. The only thing he could think of was, “Are you making jirou’mian for dinner, Ma?”

The laugh that escaped her was a hoarse, relieved sort of sound. “I can.” 

“Could you teach me?” he blurted out. 

Surprised, she looked back at him and smiled, and in that smile he saw his mother- his mother the way she truly was- peering at him through the dark. “Yes,” she said. “Yes I can.” 

And so Naj learned how to make chicken noodle soup- the Shu Way- and he learned that he still loved his mother, even though she was what she was- even though his love had become a wiser, starker- more complicated sort of love. Now that he was older, it was touched with fear and aged with wisdom- but in the end, it ran too deep to ever be completely cut out of his heart.


	24. Reunions

“Kaz!”

A bullet smashed the cobblestone at my feet, spraying me with a stinging cloud of dust. 

I dodged another bullet, dancing across the pavement like an idiot who had trampled through a nest of red ants. “Kaz!” 

“Not now, Meiyu!” he bellowed. In a flurry of black and silver he flung himself around the corner after the runaway man, not even bothering to look at what me. 

“Ka-“ I yelped as a bullet grazed my arm deep enough to bleed. “Shit!” I swore viciously, trying to find the source before I was shot for good. 

Another bullet shrieked past my head, and I flung my hand out, watching its course curve- change- swing around to bury itself in the sniper above me. 

He fell like a puppet whose strings were cut, tumbling limply off the roof. 

And all was silent. 

Heaving like the bellows, I caught my breath; once my heart began to slow, my irritation returned in full. I glared in the direction Kaz had disappeared. “Damn you, Brekker!” 

The slightest movement caught my eye, creeping towards me. 

Whirling about, I threw my hands up, my magic wrapping around him to yank him close so I could destroy him. “Move, and you’re dead,” I told him. 

He went still, peering at me through my mask. “ 

I felt my stomach bottom out when I saw his face up close. 

“I know you.” He spoke with the same accent I did. 

The magic went out of me, and he dropped like a stone when the gold mist fell away. 

With shaking hands I pulled off my smooth silver mask and watched his face go white as snow. 

“Meiyu?” He croaked. “Han Meiyu?” 

“Weisheng?” I hardly recognized my own voice. “Shi ni’ma?

He nodded. 

I pressed my hands to my mouth and smiled so hard my jaw ached as tears welled up in my eyes. “My friend.” Weisheng. The boy I used to play with as a child; the boy who had asked me to run away with him when we were just sixteen. The boy who left to go to market the day before the raid. Never forgotten. 

He reached out as if in a daze and cupped my cheek. “I can’t believe I found you.” His eyes shone with happiness. “I can’t believe I found you.” 

A joyful laugh burst from me as I threw all caution to the wind and tackled him, hugging him so tight I would have been afraid of hurting him if he wasn’t embracing me just as tightly. “You’re alive,” I gasped. “You’re alive!”

We hugged each other and laughed, both of us smiling so wide I felt my cheeks hurt. 

I didn’t think I could smile like that again. 

“Meiyu?” 

We jumped as if shocked. 

Kaz rounded the corner, shaking out his arm. “I just had to beat five other men senseless because you-” he ground to a halt. “What’s this?” his cane swung between Weisheng and I, wrapped around each other, and I fought the urge to blush. 

“I’m…I just… he’s… from my village.” I stuttered, feeling like I was still in a dream. “An old friend.” 

“So you thought it was a good time to have tea and biscuits?” His growl was laced thick with irritation and something else. 

I opened and closed my mouth, speechless. Angrily I yanked the parcel from my pocket and shoved it in his chest so hard he almost stumbled. “Don’t talk to me that way,” I hissed. “While you left me to go chasing after that rat, I had a sniper firing at me!”

His face barely changed as he took in the dark stain that seeped through my sleeve. “Are you hurt?”

“No.” I shook blood off my fingers. “The bullet barely scratched me before I got him. They won’t be following us anymore.” 

“Glad to hear it.” Kaz pocketed the parcel, ignoring my glare. “I’d hate to loose my best and only Cursemaker. You’re a major investment.” 

I bared my teeth. “Don’t call me that.” 

“Meiyu?” 

We both looked around at my friend. 

“You work for Kaz Brekker?” Weisheng sounded appalled. 

“Yes.” I wondered if his expression could get any more alarmed. 

“Meiyu, are you out of your mind!” he hissed in Shu. “Do you know what he does?”

“Yes, actually.” 

He looked far from convinced. 

I made a noise of irritation. “Ghezen, Weisheng. I’m not an idiot!” 

“And now you speak fluent Kerch?” he exclaimed incredulously. 

“So what if I do? You barely have an accent! ” 

Kaz gave me an amused look. “I can assume he doesn’t know.” 

“Of course he doesn’t,” I sighed. 

“What?” Weisheng’s voice was carefully controlled. “Doesn’t know what?” 

This was going to be a disaster. “Kaz Brekker. I work for him. I live with him.” I held up my hand, the iron band glinting. “I’m also married to him.” 

A dozen muscles ticked in my friend’s jaw like clockwork. He nodded his head, once, twice, growing angrier by the second. “I see.”

“Weisheng, don’t…” 

“Don’t what?” he snapped. 

I took a deep breath. “It’s alright…” 

“No!” He exploded, and I winced. “Nothing about this is alright!” 

“Wei-“ 

“This is just like before, isn’t it?” He demanded. 

And just like that, I wanted to kill him. “Don’t you talk to me about him.” 

“No.” His eyes were fixed on Kaz in the same way one would watch a dangerous animal. “This is not happening again,” he growled in An’Lin Shu. 

“Wha-?“ I inhaled as he lunged for me, hand wrapping around my bad wrist with brutal force. Jagged pain shot up my arm and I cried out. 

In the span of one heart beat Kaz’s cane swung down, cracked across his hand, and whipped him off his feet- all in one near-lazy motion. 

Weisheng hit the ground with a thud, cradling his wrist with a groan; the groan turned to a choke as Kaz forced his head up with his cane and pressed down, eyes glittering. 

“Don’t touch her, merch.” Kaz sounded bored, but I knew better. 

“Let him up,” I grumbled. 

Kaz glanced at me, then back at Weisheng, disdain curling along his lips. 

The cane lifted- only slightly. 

Weisheng heaved himself upright. “I’m sorry, Meiyu. I forgot.” 

“It’s fine. Just, please, calm down,” I pleaded. 

“Yes, please do,” Kaz said smoothly, polishing his cane. “Watching your noble efforts at ‘saving her’ is nothing short of embarrassing.” 

Weisheng looked murderous. 

Saints this was a mess. 

“Weisheng, we need to leave. Now.” 

He glared at Kaz with all his might. “I’m not going anywhere with that thieving murderer.” 

My husband gave him that awful half smile, cool and smooth as cream. “By all means, keep talking,” Kaz suggested mildly. “If you want, we can all die together.” 

Weisheng turned an ugly red. 

Saints, I hated how he goaded people! 

“You’re making this ten times worse!” 

He looked up, down, and shrugged, turning so Weisheng was completely blocked out of the conversation. Dismissing him. “It’s not my fault this clown is wasting our time and will probably get us shot.” 

Weisheng went perfectly still. “Call me that again, bastard.” He was deadly calm. “It would be my pleasure to wipe you off the face of the earth. It’s the least you deserve.” 

“Probably,” Kaz agreed, smirking ever-so-slightly. 

He hurled himself at Kaz and I wrenched him back with my magic. 

I lost my temper. “By all that is holy, Weisheng! Don’t think I won’t knock you out.” 

He grit his teeth. We both knew I would do it. He was stubborn as a mule. But I wasn’t beneath knocking him out and towing him along like a sack of rice. “Fine,” he spat. He shot daggers at Kaz with his eyes. 

We all quickly walked back, the hostility thick enough to cut with a knife. 

It was the most uncomfortable three minutes of my life. 

Weisheng kept glancing between Kaz and I. He looked… well, like he wanted to shoot him. And he looked at me like I was a stranger; like there was something terribly wrong with me. 

Maybe there was, but it still stung to see that look. 

Kaz walked on, completely unaffected. Of course he kept us going at a brutal pace. 

I glanced over at Weisheng and saw him limping slightly, hobbling from the pain, and rolled my eyes at Kaz’s smirk. 

Figures. 

Kaz marched into our home, straight to his office where he closed the door and locked it with quick efficiency. I didn’t even want to think about Naj overhearing any of this. That boy worshipped Kaz, but I didn’t want him to see his mother’s childhood friend trying (and failing) to throttle his father. It would be a circus. 

He sat down at his desk and stretched his leg out with far too much leisure. 

I stood with my arms crossed. 

Weisheng refused point blank to sit. 

I couldn’t blame him. 

“Could I talk to Meiyu. Alone?” he talked through his teeth. Ugly purple bruises were forming on his wrist, and I worried it had been broken. 

“Hm…” Kaz pretended to think. “You hurt her, and whenever you talk you become unspeakably annoying, so… No.” 

I could almost see the steam coming out of Weisheng’s ears. 

“For the love of-Kaz Brekker, I can talk to whoever I want!” I felt a migraine coming on. Saints. “Weisheng and I grew up together. He…” I glanced at him and looked away, uncomfortable in a way I haven’t been since I was a girl. 

Kaz’s expression was condescending as he flicked his eyes towards Weisheng. “Ah. Did she turn you down, too?” It didn’t take a genius to put two-and-two together. 

“Keep out of this,” Weisheng growled. There was old hurt still coloring the words. 

“For Saints sake- I was married! I carried another man’s child!” 

“That wouldn’t have mattered to me,” he growled forcefully. “I loved you.” 

“This is all starting to sound like a Ravkan tragedy,” Kaz said under his breath. 

“Shut up, Kaz.” I don’t think anything he had said had ever pissed me off so much. I ground my teeth and stalked towards Weisheng until we were inches from each other. “You loved me,” I hissed, “And then you left me alone-with him!” 

“I begged you to leave- and you said no!“ 

“Of course I did!” 

Kaz’s attention swung back and forth between is as if watching a duel. 

“I couldn’t abandon my brother- who do you think took care of him?” I spat. “My mother, who spent half her days staring into space, she was so sick? My father, who did his best to forget he had a fucked up wife by traveling up and down Shu Han doing God knows what?” 

“Fine, alright! But I didn’t leave without saying goodbye, I swear!” 

I scoffed resentfully. “Well, I must have remembered wrong, then.” 

He winced. 

I continued on, reeking with sarcasm. “Actually, what I remember is my closest friend leaving without even telling me. That’s what I remember. What, exactly, do you remember?”

He dragged a hand through his hair and didn’t answer. “I left you a message when I left-“ he offered weakly. 

“There was no message,” I said lowly. 

“There was! Or there should have been. I-I left it-“ 

I grabbed him by the shirt and hauled him to me by his collar, rendering him mute with my ferocity. “There was no message,” I snarled, sick with anger, raw as an open wound. “Everything that came to me went through him first, you stupid, stupid man.”

“Meiyu, I didn’t kn-“ 

“Guole,” I hissed. 

His face went slack as black began welling in my eyes. 

The black receded. 

“Five years, Weisheng. Five. Years.” I barreled on. “Do you have any idea what he did to me?”

Weisheng looked down. 

My grandparents had tried to see me, but each time they did, he would hurt me. The more they tried, the worse the hurts got, until my Waipo and Gonggong didn’t know what to do. My brother was the only one who was brave enough (and stupid enough) who kept trying to see me. My brother. My poor, brave, Cricket, who raged and cried whenever he saw my bloodied face and broken bones, who brought me silly stories from home to make me smile; who brought me food swiped from Mother; money from Father; who held the twins and make them smile and giggle when I was too far gone to do it myself. 

“I’m so sorry.” 

I closed my eyes. My hands dropped to smooth down my shirt, and I did my best to compose myself. Saints. I needed to regain a sense of dignity. “What’s done is done,” I said quietly. “That’s just way things were.” 

“No. I could have...” He looked down and rubbed his hand along his face. “I’m sorry. I have dishonored myself, and our friendship. Forgive me.” Remorse was imbedded in his every word. 

I sighed, tired. “Weisheng, you’ve been my oldest friend since I was a girl. I will tell you what happened to me, but only once. Will you listen to me now?” 

He nodded, still ashamed. 

Weary, I dragged a chair out and sat. I pointed at the other chair. “Sit. I don’t want to be standing this whole time.” 

He grudgingly sat. 

“Alright. You know the first part of this story, but he knows the second.” I jerked my head towards Kaz. I turned to him, voice chilled. “When wars break out, who pays for it in blood?” 

“Most assume it’s the soldiers,” he began. “And they do die.” 

I raised a brow. “But…” 

He held my iron hard gaze with one that matched my own. “But it’s the ones who get caught in the middle who die. The civilians. The innocent.” 

“Precisely.” I smiled coldly. “A village is nothing in the grand scheme of war. Not one or two or a hundred.” I changed directions suddenly, needing him to hear what I was saying. “How long have you lived in Ketterdam?” I asked sharply. 

“A long time,” he answered, ever elusive. 

“It is your home, yes?” 

“In a way.” 

“No. It is your home,” I said forcefully. It is your home, but mine is far away from here, I thought to myself. I looked out at the dark, smoky sky. “It’s so grey in Ketterdam…like… smoke. There is no forest. Nothing grows.” 

“Your point?” 

I searched for the words- the feeling of home- that ached in my bones. “To my people, the land is everything. It is our most precious possession, for we live and die by it. And then…” I snapped my fingers. “In less than a few hours, everything we ever had in this world. Everything we knew. Gone.” 

The grief caught up with me, but I pressed on. 

“Shu Han has never been stable. Dynasties come and goes like the seasons- but the Yue’Hai’i have been here the longest. They established the greatest ruling family in Shu Han, and once, they were the unifying force that held the country together.” My voice grew flinty. “Unfortunately, our beloved Emperor grew too fat and too comfortable to pay attention. The Han had been the power behind the throne for years- everyone knew it. It was only a matter of time before our Royal Family was assassinated by extremists.” 

Kaz didn’t looked surprised. “So you were there for the Purity Movement?” 

Weigheng snorted. “Everyone was there, whether they wanted to be or not.”

I leaned forward. “There are over fifty minorities in Shu Han; the Yue’Hai’i are one of them. They’ve ruled Shu Han as long as any of us can remember, but the Han represent ninety percent of the population. I’m Han on my father’s side, Yue’hai’i on my mother’s-“

“Moon-sea,” Kaz translated, tasting the words. “Were your ancestors Grisha?” 

Weisheng looked surprised at Kaz’s observation. 

I nodded. “Tidemakers, you Kerch would call us. My mother’s people were Grisha and Yue’Hai’i, and when the dynasty went sour, many of us fled to the Spine to escape persecution. We kept our heads down; the Han didn’t bother us. But once the Purity’s leader was attacked- ” 

“-all of us had to die,” Weisheng interrupted. “All of us. ” 

We were all silent for a moment. 

When Weisheng spoke again, his voice was pitched low. “They were testing some new kind of Grisha-made weapons. Guns that could fire a dozen bullets at once. Some kind of poison gas. Bombs.” He swallowed. “It didn’t matter that we were innocent- we were Yue’Hai’i, and that was enough. So they rounded us up. Boxed us in and opened fire. We never stood a chance.” 

I looked down. 

Kaz drummed his fingers along his cane. “They wasted Grisha-ammunition on a village?” 

Weisheng scowled. “They were making a point. Terror is a powerful weapon in war.” 

“Fair enough.” 

I turned to Weisheng, cautious, but hopeful. “My Waipo and Gonggong. I never saw them…”

“We found them.” Weisheng looked down, full of sorrow. “After.” 

Numb grief dulled all my senses. “Was it quick?” I asked shortly. 

“I think so.” His eyes were full of pity. “I’m sorry, Meiyu.”

The world was spinning, but I was standing still. 

“Why? People die all the time.”

Weisheng looked pained.

Kaz shifted in his seat. 

I straightened my spine, dry-eyed. “Thank you for telling me.” 

“Meiyu…” He reached for my hand, but I delicately pulled it away. I didn’t like to be touched like that. Even by him. 

“Thank you for telling me,” I repeated mechanically, too brusque to be polite. 

Kaz’s silence made me self-conscious. 

Weisheng’s brow furrowed. “What happened to you?” I gave him a dry look, and he flushed a bit. “I…Meiyu, I haven’t seen you in… years. I thought you had died.” 

“I escaped with my daughters.”

“Are they-?“ 

“They’re gone.” 

“When?” 

“Years ago,” I rapped out. “One died. I don’t know what happened to the other.” I shoved my sleeve down and crossed my arms. Better to keep it short and dethatched. 

He opened and closed his mouth. “I’m-“ 

“Don’t say you’re sorry,” I snapped. I exhaled harshly, pushing the memory as far away as possible. “When I ran,” I continued with a single-minded intensity, “I was attacked on the road by a man. He was starving, and I had food.”

Beans. Four of them. 

Dread dawned on Weisheng’s face. 

“I killed him,” I said flatly. “With my magic.” 

“…Oh.” 

“I will not lie.” I lifted my eyes. “I was too hungry to be sorry.” Saliva filled my mouth, and all at once, I could almost taste the rancid, cloyingly sweet starch on my tongue. 

Weisheng pressed his fingers to his forehead. “Meiyu, how could you do such a thing?” 

“When you’re starving, everything is easy.” My hands fiddled with my veil and I glowered. “Don’t look at me like that,” I muttered. “You know as well as I morals are a luxury no one can afford.” 

“So you’re not sorry?” he concluded morosely. 

I laughed harshly. (Weisheng always was a tad noble for my liking. He also was unbearably naive.) “Not as much as I should be,” I concluded. When his expression flattened, I smiled a lipless smile and shrugged. “War is war, Weisheng. It makes monsters of us all.”

“The really bad monsters never look like monsters,” Kaz recited. 

I chuckled darkly. “And here sit two prime examples.” 

Kaz smirked at me with a coldness that matched my laugh. 

“You murdered someone, Meiyu,” Weisheng said around his fingers. “Does that mean nothing to you?” 

Of all the- 

In an eye’s blink, I leapt from my seat and wrenched him around so he looked me square in the eye. “That man attacked me with my babies in my arms!” I hissed through clenched teeth. “Do you want me to weep for him- the man who wanted my children for the meat?” 

Now, my oldest and dearest friend couldn’t even meet my eyes. He was repulsed- ashamed. 

I found I hated him for it. 

“You think you’d act any differently? You think you can keep your humanity in Hell?” I shoved him back into his seat. “Do me a favor, Weisheng, and judge me when I’m dead.” 

We both looked down at our feet. 

“You must have looked like a Grisha to slavers.” Kaz surmised, probably to snap us out of our pained silence. 

Funny. I almost forgot there was another person in the room. 

“The slavers had no idea what I was.” My smile was thin: warped as a sheet of beaten copper. “But they knew I was a woman, so you can guess what happened when they caught me.” 

Weigheng’s face turned a shade paler. 

“When I came to, I was in the belly of a slaving ship. It was so dark. And the smell…” I swallowed, feeling ill, “Sometimes even the slavers didn’t come down because of it.” I looked down at my whitened knuckles. “There must have been… three hundred of us? All from Shu Han. We were so scared, Weisheng,” I whispered. “So scared, and so alone.” 

His eyes were glazed with tears. 

“We prayed for her to save us.” 

It was like a switch had been flipped on my husband. “Did you see her? Inej?” His voice was sharp, tinged with excitement- maybe even hope. I saw the way his eyes brightened. The way he caressed her name made my stomach drop in the most unpleasant way. Even the way he breathed changed minutely. Hitched. After all this time, he was hers. 

“No.” 

He sank back in his seat, bitter disappointment souring his face. 

I tried and failed to stifle my jealousy. All I could offer was, “I’m sorry, Kaz.” I tried to imagine this woman- a savior to so many- who had managed to capture the heart of the heartless Bastard of the Barrel. “She must have been as wonderful as the stories say,” I said as kindly as I could. 

“No,” he rasped. “She was better.” 

Something about the raw devotion in Kaz’s words pricked a longing deep inside me- something I hadn’t thought about since I was a girl. Suddenly, I fervently, desperately wished I had been able to marry someone who loved me. Who spoke of me the same way Kaz spoke of Inej. Burning thorns dug into my heart, and my next words were not so kind. They were biting, snide words. “Inej Ghafa saved so many, but sometimes I wonder whether she thought about what her actions would cause.” 

Kaz’s eyes snapped to mine. “What?” he ground out. 

I was digging my own grave, but I raised my chin defiantly. “She took down so many slaving ships. She gave so many hope. But hope can do more harm than good.”

His cane struck the ground with a bang, and I fought the urge to flinch. “Don’t try to blame this on her, Meiyu.” 

I clenched the arm of my chair so hard my hand hurt. “I watched women hope themselves to death for her! I watched my sweet cousin lay down to die because her Saint had forsaken her!”

“She saved people. All you’ve done is kill them. It’s what you do best,” he snarled. 

I blanched. For an awful moment I felt tears sting my eyelids. 

Weisheng shot out of his chair. “You have no right to speak to her like that, Brekker.” He sounded furious. 

Kaz’s expression turned shuttered. 

I stepped between them before the whole situation got worse. “Everything he has said is true. I’m here because I killed.” I rubbed my temple. “Once, I knew exactly how many. I don’t anymore.” 

“What…” My friend tried to sound calm, but I could hear a twinge of genuine fear in his voice. “What was the last number you remembered?” 

It broke my heart. 

“At least 400. And that was just one time.” 

“Gods above Meiyu…” 

“You’ve heard of the Blood Dragon, yes?” 

“Yes.” He stared at me, and in his eyes, I was a stranger. “You?” 

I tried to smile, and it came out twisted and wrong. “Ah. I see you realize what I am now. You ask dangerous questions, my friend, and I have answered. But the truth gives no comfort.” 

“How could you just,” he grasped for words he couldn’t find, “stop counting?” 

“It gets easier the longer you do it.” I lowered my hand, needing him to understand something I would never be able to define. “You just… push the numbers in the back of your mind so they can fade away. And then you move on, and do it again, because what else can you do?” 

“You could choose to stop,” Weisheng stated incredulously. 

Kaz snorted under his breath. “If only life was that easy.” 

“I am Cursemaker, Weisheng. I have never been able to apologize for surviving.” My mouth twisted. “It is the evil in me.” 

“Have you always been like this?” He looked at me, and saw me for what I really was.

My mouth opened and closed. I knew exactly what he meant. ”I didn’t want to be,” I finally said. I couldn’t manage anything else. 

Kaz folded his hands over his cane. “We stop counting because it’s the only way to keep going. If we let every death weigh on our minds like you want them to, we’d drown.” His words were sharp: almost…defensive? 

“But you can’t justify murder.” Weisheng still looked appalled. 

“No,” he said slowly, “but it’s easy to judge what you’ve never had to endure.” He looked over at me, and I suspected it was something close to an apology. 

I couldn’t forgive him yet, and he saw that. I walked across the room and looked at the sliver if the sea I could glimpse through the window. It looked dark and calm today. Gentle waves folded over one another, getting smaller and smaller until they were nothing more than a memory. “The sea. It’s quiet today.” I glanced back at Weisheng, “You always wanted to cross it.” 

“My first trip I got horribly sick,” he offered feebly. Trying to fill the emptiness. 

I didn’t smile. 

Wordlessly I turned back to stare at the line of the sea, then up to peer at the open sky and the birds circling overhead. “You wouldn’t believe how many died, Weisheng. Every morning, you’d wake up, and someone else was gone. You prayed for the bodies to be tossed overboard, so you wouldn’t have to look at them, smell them.” 

My fingers traced the windowsill. 

“That smell…the smell of those ships… Gods above- it was like nothing you’ve ever dreamed of: sweat and blood and rotting, putrid flesh, festering in the heat for weeks and weeks.”

I didn’t turn around. 

“There was one man- from our village- I didn’t know his name. I woke up and… saw him. His eyes were wide open. Foggy, like marbles. He was chained to me, and when the ship hit some rough waters, he… rolled onto me.” 

My skin crawled. I made eye contact with Kaz, and the slightest tremor rippled through him. Whatever had driven him to find human contact so repulsive, I think I knew. 

I turned back and spoke to the sea. “I screamed and screamed for someone to take the body away. I couldn’t stop. But everyone screamed, so in the end, I learned to lie with the dead.” 

The clouds drifted above me in fluffy shades of white. 

The blue sky mocked me. 

“When they finally threw his body overboard, I cried. Out of relief, though. Not sadness.”

Weisheng stepped closer to me, hand outstretched, and I couldn’t bear it. 

“I knew what to expect from the slavers. I was prepared.” My jaw worked. “And they came. In the dark. They came and took what they wanted.” 

The blood drained from Weisheng’s face as my words hit him. 

“From us. From the girls.” I felt acrid bile bubble up in my throat, and I swallowed it down. “From the baby, before her mother killed her.” 

Kaz looked utterly disgusted. 

There was nothing but horror and revulsion on my friend’s face.

The blood drained from Weisheng’s face as my words hit him. 

“One of them liked it when we screamed.” My voice was devoid of life. “I would not scream, so he...worked…on me.”

Weisheng’s eyes were rimmed red. 

“I made sure he suffered before he died. I had him scream-for days.” A stray tear slipped down my cheek without my consent. I took a shuddering breath. “Eventually, I stopped eating. I wanted to go home. I wanted to be free.” 

The confession felt thick on my tongue. I felt myself swaying on the ship; I felt the crushing dark. 

The room seemed to hold its breath. 

Weisheng swallowed. “What happened?” 

I eyed him coldly. “Do you truly want to know, or are you asking a question you don’t want to hear the answer to?” 

“No.” His conviction was iron now. “I want to know.”

“Fine.” Without delicacy I pulled my shirt off, spinning to bare my ruined back to him. 

Kaz had seen this- he was my husband, after all. But Weisheng…

The sound that came out of him was strangled. 

“He wanted me to eat, you see.” I shrugged my shirt back on and turned to him. “When I ignored him, he got a bit carried away trying to make me,” I supplied. 

“By all the Saints …” There was nothing but devastation in his eyes. He blew out a deep breath, and I glimpsed a film of tears in them before he dropped his face in his hands, ashen. “By all the Saints, what a evil world we live in…” he said hoarsely. 

I had never seen him so miserable. 

“When I came to Kerch...” 

The memories flashed across my eyes, painful. 

“My cousin and I were Hun,” I said instead. “Pale-skinned, because of our Kerch blood. Both of us were prized for it- but my cousin…” I took a deep breath to continue. “My cousin was beautiful, even as a little girl. The slavers saw it. They took her, from me.” Ages had past since that day on the docks, but I still heard her screams. Swiftly, I wiped my trickling eyes. “She was sold in minutes. I never saw her again.”

“YuYan?” Weisheng sounded horrified. 

I nodded, unable to speak.

He swore. 

Poor child. I saw her face, as round and lovely as the moon she was named for. “I should have killed her during the Crossing.” My heart felt shriveled in my chest. “When you’re a woman, beauty like that is a rope around your neck,” I murmured. “It draws men to you like flies to flesh. It makes them want you in ways you can barely imagine.” 

Kaz was grim in the face of my misery. 

I rubbed my eyes. “I was Hun, but my scars made me cheap, and I was mad. Exotic, they said, but too feral for a domestic slave. So the House bought me; I started as a Penny, and became a Porcelain. I danced to stay alive. And when I was strong enough, I made them all scream.” 

“I hope they suffered,” Weisheng said, quietly but fiercely. He looked like he lived fifty years of heartache.

“They did,” Kaz spoke up calmly. “I heard about the massacre at the House. It drew a lot of attention.” He examined his cane. “All I can say is they got what was coming to them.”

I shivered. This was what I did. What I was. 

But then his eyes met mine, and I saw fire. “But I knew firsthand who ran the House and the ships. It was her goal to eradicate the most powerful brothels in Kerch and destroy the slave trade within the True Sea.” Pride colored his voice. 

“To the women of the House, Inej Ghafa was our patron saint. Our hope and our light,” I told him. “Would… would you like to know what we called her?” My version of an apology.

Kaz glanced up. 

“Fengbao Wuya.” 

“Stormcrow,” he translated. 

“Stormcrow,” I repeated. 

For the first time in ages, Kaz looked…happy. “She would have liked that.” 

I felt the echo of a smile flicker across my face.

“What happened?” Weisheng hedged. “After?” 

I looked at my hands, forever stained red. “Not much. I became the Blood Dragon. Traveled. Came to Ketterdam- started a restaurant, too. That’s where I met Kaz.” I snorted weakly. “We married because-” 

“-Because even though you could still be tried for murder, you ceased to be a slave once you were married to a free Kerch-born man,” he concluded. “And on top of that, no slaver or crime boss in a hundred miles would dare touch you while under the protection of Kaz Brekker himself.” His eyes slid to Kaz, analyzing. “And you would have your own personal Cursemaker working exclusively for the Dregs.”

Kaz didn’t try to deny it. “It’s been a extremely lucrative business deal. The worst brothels have nearly been eliminated. Investments have thrived. Profits have nearly tripled-” 

“-And neither of us have scrapped a job in…six years?” I interjected. 

“Seven.”

“Really?” I was faintly pleased. “That’s better than I thought…Things have been-“

“Boring?”

“I was going to say peaceful,” I grumbled. “But call it what you will.” 

“Very efficient team, aren’t you?” Weisheng cut in. I heard the resignation in his voice as he stared between us. Now, he understood. He knew what I was. 

“You know, you’re a lot smarter when you actually think,” Kaz said. I heard a hint of grudging respect- but only the tiniest of hints. 

“Thank you,” he replied smoothly. “So, Meiyu… is that the end of the story?” 

“Not really. I live here now. I work. I fight. And…” I quickly over at Kaz, asking if I should mention Naj. No, was the firm answer. “...I’ve… made a life, Weisheng...It still doesn’t feel real. And I certainly don’t deserve any of it.” 

“You deserve more than you think,” Kaz said quietly. 

I laughed hollowly. “Someday, I’ll be judged for my crimes.” I thought of what was waiting for me on the other side, and I wasn’t sure it’d be good. “I’ve found my place here, Weisheng. But I can never go back.”

He nodded. “I think I understand. Now.” 

The quiet acceptance in those words meant the world to me. 

I looked at him for what seemed like the first time, and memories passed by like pages being flipped in a book. I saw the little child running along the dirt roads with me, giggling as I tried to catch him. I saw the gangly, awkward boy who blushed when I teased him. I saw the hopeful young man asking me to run away with him. All of this and gone. I squeezed his hand and smiled sadly. “Thank you, Weisheng.” 

“I will, Meiyu.” 

Kaz watched us with an unreadable expression on his face. 

Weisheng stood up, and so did I. He looked sad. “I’ve heard what needed to be said. I think I should go now.” 

Kaz rose to his feet and walked around. No hand was offered in a shake, but there was a glimmer of respect that hadn’t existed before. “For Meiyu’s sake, I hope you don’t get shot,” he said dryly. “If we meet again, make sure I’m not armed, otherwise I might be forced to kill you.” 

Weisheng laughed, surprising us both. “Trust me, the feeling is mutual.” 

I spoke to Kaz. “I’ll show him out.” 

He nodded in response. 

Weisheng and I slowly made our way back to the front door. We looked at each other one more time. 

I had an idea. “Let’s speak in An’LinShu. My husband has a knack for Shu, and I miss being able to speak our home tongue.” 

“I do, too.” 

We smiled at the familiar words. 

“I have to ask this once and for all.” He took my hand. “If I had found you before Brekker, would you have married me?” 

“Weisheng…” I squeezed his hand, not wanting to hurt him further. 

“Oh.” One sad, lonely word, laced with disappointment. 

“I could never go back,” I repeated gently. “You wouldn’t have wanted to marry me then.” 

His eyes softened. “I loved you, you know. Very much. I still do.” 

“I know.” 

“Do you love him?” he asked, shoving his hands in his pockets. 

I looked at the sky and saw the crow circling above. “I don’t know,” I murmured. “I’ve been with him for seven years, Weisheng. I just…”

He tilted his head. “What?” 

“I don’t think I’m meant for love,” I confessed. 

We watched the crow‘s flight in companionable silence. 

“Does he make you happy?” That was the Weisheng I remembered: always watching out for me. 

I looked down at my ring, frowning. “Can people like us ever be happy?“ 

Weisheng’s eyebrows went up. “You don’t seem unhappy with him.” 

“No,” I marveled. “In a strange way, he does makes me happy. Don’t get me wrong- he’s a dangerous man. Cruel. There are days when I think we’re like fire and fire. And yet...am I not dangerous? Am I not cruel?” I switched gears. “Did you know, I saw Auntie Lin, years ago?”

“Auntie Lin?! Who lived in the hut with the flowers growing in the back?” 

I nodded distantly. She said to me, ‘I know who you are, and what you did. Don’t come near me. You’re dead to us now. Go and die, murdering whore.’” My throat closed up, and I felt my heart shrivel in my chest. 

Weisheng didn’t say anything. 

I gave him a watery smile. “So, you see? A woman who was like family wished me dead. Called me a murderer. Called me a whore.” I fingered my sturdy iron ring. “But Kaz Brekker? For all his faults, he has been a better husband to me than my “real” one a hundred times over. He has never made me be anything than what I am; with him, I am free. That is all I’ve ever wanted. Maybe we’re twisted and wrong, but… somehow, I have found peace.” 

“That’s all I needed to hear.” He let go of my hand. 

I smiled. “Come back and visit someday.” 

“I don’t think that’s a wise idea. Your husband might shoot me.” 

“He might. But he would give you fair warning. And he’d have to get past me.” 

“Well that’s comforting,” he chuckled. 

For a moment we stood, uncertain. Prolonging what we both knew was coming. 

He leaned down and wrapped his arms around me. “Goodbye, Meiyu.” 

I hugged him back. “My dear friend,” I whispered, “Please come back soon.” 

He pulled back and pressed a soft kiss on my cheek. 

I returned it. 

He stepped back, brushing a wayward curl from my face. “I wish you all the joy in the world, Meiyu.” 

“And I you.” I saw that young man again in his smile.

He turned and walked away, until I could no longer see him. 

“Is he gone?” Kaz stood at my shoulder, eyes never leaving the empty street. 

“Yes.”

“For good?” 

I rolled my eyes and saw Kaz’s mouth twitch slightly. “Yes.” I swung around and stepped over the threshold, closing the door behind him. 

“I was half expecting he’d beg you to run away with him.” 

I crossed my arms. “Jealous, husband?” 

“Not in the least.” he snorted. 

I twisted my ring round in circles, staring at the dark metal. “Do you ever miss your family, Kaz?” 

“No.” His mouth was a hard line. 

“Surely you had someone?” 

“Not anymore.” Case closed, is what he meant. 

“You were the younger sibling, then?” 

His eyes flashed to mine, darkening into something dangerous. “Why do you want to know?” 

I thought for a moment. “Well, I have known you for many years, but I still know very little about you.” 

“That’s the way I’d like it to be.” 

I frowned. “Honestly Kaz. I’ve worked side-by-side with you for seven years. Your son calls me Mother. This is becoming much more than business.” 

“You think that knowing me makes a difference?” 

“Yes, I do,” I answered bluntly, “because business like this requires trust.” 

“I still don’t fully trust you.” 

“Well, I don’t either, but I hope that changes, otherwise one of us might end up dead in a ditch because of it.” I faced him until we looked at one another squarely in the eye. “Do you fear the past, or do you deny it?” 

“Neither.” 

“That’s a load of horse shit.”

His expression went dark. “I’m not about to tell you anything.”

“I’m not trying to blackmail you…” I rubbed my temple and growled in frustration. “Ok. Fine. You know I had a little brother, right?” 

He nodded. 

“I was six years older than him. It might as well have been ten. I called him Cricket, and he drove me insane. Always talking. Always moving. Pissed me off to no end.”

“Sounds like Jesper.” 

I chuckled wearily, fiddling with my ring as I spoke. “They were very much alike in that way.” It spun steadily, turning over onto itself in a soothing rhythm. “You know I hated him. He was a boy, and my parents loved him- and I mean-” I grimaced, “really loved him. So I that made me hate him even more. But when I got older… he was the only person in the entire world who made me feel safe.” 

I stopped spinning my ring. 

“The last time I ever saw him, he was scattered across the ground in pieces.” Tears pricked my eyes. “Stupid, stupid boy,” I whispered. “Ran right into the bombs.” 

For a moment he was silent, and I wondered if he would walk away. Then he spoke. “...My brother’s name was Jordie. He was my hero. I thought he could do no wrong.” Kaz’s voice was rougher than usual. Sandpaper over granite. 

“He sounds like the best of brothers,” I said gently. “What happened?” 

“He was smart, but not smart enough. We came to Ketterdam, stupid and full of hope, and we were robbed of all our savings.” His voice turned thin and bitter as black coffee. “Then he died. Plague. We were all each other had.” 

I nodded. “I’m sorry for what you lost.” I knew how you could mourn someone-love them- and hate them for leaving you in the dark. I heard the betrayal underneath the anger, and I thought back to Cricket, dead before he had the chance to live. 

“He was too good for this world. Kind and trusting. It killed him in the end.” His fists were clenched. 

“I’m very sorry, Kaz.” I didn’t know what to say. 

He began to walk away from me. “I’m done with this game.” 

I followed close behind, insulted. “Kaz, if you think I’m doing this for some sort of sick joke, you don’t know me at all.” 

“If you’re waiting for me to express my condolences, you’re wasting your time.” 

The sneer in his voice made me see red. I looked at him, disgusted by his disrespect. “Do not dishonor my brother, Kaz Rietveld, or yours.” My voice was quiet but full of reproach. “There is an old saying in my village: ‘to honor the dead is to remember the best and forgive the worst’.”

“And have you done that?” A loaded question, full of sarcasm and mockery. 

“No.” I held my temper in check. “I cannot truly honor my brother, because I still can’t see my his face without seeing his body. Surely you- of all people- should understand this.” I hammered the words out, accusing. 

His jaw was tight. 

I closed my eyes and sighed. “It’s been fifteen years since I last saw him. Do you know, sometimes I can barely even remember what he looks like? My own brother. Saints-I held him in my arms the day he was born. I promised my mother I would watch out for him. And now he’s dead.” I spoke, and my words were brittle. “I was the older sibling, Kaz. I was supposed to protect him, and every day I live is a reminder that I failed. In every way possible.” 

His face softened a degree, and he motioned with his head to the hall. “Let’s sit down.” 

I nodded, too full of regrets to speak. Then I blinked. “Oh. Oh. Naj’s middle name. Jordan. Nadir…Jordan…Brekker. Naj!” 

He glanced at me over his shoulder. “That took you a long, long time to make the connection.” He sounded... lighter. 

“Sometimes things are so close you never see them,” I replied softly. Then I smiled. “Nadir. Rare. Precious. Suli, isn’t it?” 

He was quiet. “Yes.” 

“It’s a good name,” I offered.

“Inej chose it.” We stopped at the door and he looked over at me. “What does Chenlin and Xiaohui mean?” 

For a moment I couldn’t speak. I hadn’t said those names out loud in…so long. “Xiaohui and Chenlin. Morning Sunlight and Morning Willow. Sunlight for happiness. The willow tree for healing.” Nostalgia swept over me, bittersweet. “They were born-“ 

“In the morning?” he asked lightly. 

I looked at his amused expression and tried not to smile. “Well, yes. They were born in the morning, during the winter.” I closed my eyes, immersed in the bittersweet memory. “Everything was cold and grey, but the sun- the red sun, and that morning-was so full of life. So I named them after it.” 

“Those are good names,” he said simply. 

I glanced at him dubiously, not sure if he was making fun of me. His eyes gave nothing away. 

“I didn’t know you were such a poet,” he remarked, opening the door to let us in. 

“I’m really not. I just liked how they sounded,” I joked. I stepped though first and he followed. “Still, I barely know anything about you.” 

“What in the world would you need to know about me?” He closed the door behind us with a soft click. 

“Well, you never know: someday I might be kidnapped by some crazed murderer who won’t let me go until I say what your favorite… candy, is.” 

“That’s absurd.” 

I lifted a brow. “A lot of things in this world are until they happen.” 

“How very wise.” 

We sat down at his desk again. He settled in his seat, and I steepled my fingers together. “So. What’s the answer?” 

“What?” 

“What’s your favorite candy?” 

“You should know by now.” 

“Indulge me,” I shrugged. 

He considered me for a moment. “Black liquorice. The kind they make fresh in that one store you sneak over to when you buy Naj sweets.” He smirked. “I see you smuggling him a tiny bag every other weak.” 

“Cursemakers do not sneak,” I informed him snobbishly. “And anyways. Black liquorice is disgusting. It’s like eating sweet leather!” 

He reclined in his seat. “It’s delicious.” 

“You’re sick,” I said, deadpan. 

“I’ve heard that from a lot of people.” 

I started to smile but then stopped, troubled. It felt good to feel something other than misery and anger, but this... “What are we doing, Kaz?”

His good humor fell away. “What do you mean?” He sounded irritated now. 

“I’m smiling after reliving my worst experiences.” I gestured between us helplessly. “This whole marriage started off as a business merger, and now it’s…”

“A mess?” 

I rolled my eyes. “I just… sometimes I say to myself, ‘This man is no monster, even if he calls himself one.’” I felt my face heat up a bit at his stare. “And then you turn around, and I see Dirtyhands, the man who won’t hesitate to gut a man like a pig! Saints, you’re a psychopath, Kaz Brekker. I bet you could profit off the death of your own mother!”

His eyebrows shot up. 

My mood darkened. “And then sometimes I almost wished you would use your cane on me or lend me to your Dregs. That, at least, I’d know what I am to you.” I thought to myself. 

“For fuck’s sake, Meiyu!” he hissed, steely eyed. “Why would you want that from me?!” 

I froze, paralyzed with mortification. “I shouldn’t have said that,” I muttered stiffly, jerking out of the chair to beat a hasty retreat to carry me away. 

Away from him. Away from me. 

He shot from his chair and came around to me in three short strides, cane connecting with the ground with sharp clacks. 

I pulled the door open a fingerbreadths and yelped as it slammed shut. 

The dark line of his cane came to rest back next to him. 

“Sit down.”

My pride roared in protest and I whirled around, practically nose-to-nose with him. “Why? You’re not my master!” 

The cane rose and I felt myself flinch instinctively, clenching my teeth so hard I could feel it through my skull. 

It rose, and changed from one hand to another. That’s all. 

It lowered with a muted thud. 

I felt my heart slide back down from my throat. 

“I wasn’t going to use it on you,” he told me bluntly. “I never would.” 

It was like getting backed into a corner, and I lashed out in the worst way possible. “You think your word means anything?” I shot back. “Your ‘word’ is shit, because you’re all the same in the end: monsters pretending to be human!”

His face betrayed nothing. 

“I…” I regretted the words even as they hurled themselves at him. 

He walked back around his desk and sat. Waiting for me. 

I heaved a deep sigh and took the other chair. “I’m sorry,” I said quietly. “You’ve never beaten me. You’ve never touched me, and… And that’s more than I could ever had hoped for.” 

“Then why would you want that from me?” he asked again. 

“I…” I had never felt so foolish- so exposed- in all my life. “I don’t know.” 

“Not good enough,” his voice struck me like the bite of a whip, and I snapped. 

“I don’t know, alright?” I hissed. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me!” My knuckles were white, skin over bone. I feel helpless shame bubble up inside me, and I looked down. “I’m not her, Kaz. Don’t tell me to ask for anything better, because this is the best I can hope for.” 

He stared at me so hard I felt like holes were being drilled into me. 

“What?” I asked, emotionally drained. “What now?” 

“I know you’re not her.” 

“Alright,” I said blandly. “Good to know.” 

He raised his eyebrows. “I may not say much, Meiyu, but I see you.” He pulled a small paper wrapped parcel out of his pocket and pushed it across the desk to me with the end of his cane. “Consider it a bonus after seven years of work.” 

I blinked down at it stupidly. It was stained and speckled, and the smell was…sweet? Familiar. I couldn’t put my finger on it. My hand reached out, and I pulled it back. “Are you trying to give me a bundle of dead insects?” I asked suspiciously. 

The look he gave me was one of complete condescension. “What do you think?” 

I crossed my arms. “Your son pranked me a few weeks ago with a lovely package of dead cockroaches a few weeks ago wrapped as chocolates.” 

Amusement was written all across his face. “And you trusted him?” 

I huffed, offended. “Well, I did. Now I see he’s too much like his father.” 

Kaz ignored my barb. “This is not a bunch dead cockroaches.” 

“So what is it, a gift?” I snorted. 

“Let’s just say yes so you’ll stop talking.” 

Oh. “A gift. For…me?” My voice sounded small. 

He nodded meaningfully to it. 

I reached out and picked it up. It was… warm. Oily? Sweet-smelling. 

Gingerly I unwrapped the paper and saw… 

“Jian dui?” I said in confusion. 

“Is that what they’re called?” 

I nodded wordlessly. I lifted it to my nose and inhaled, closing my eyes. 

The rich smell of cooking oil and starchy beans floated up to me, fresh from a street side vendor. It smelled like…like gold and white and brown. Like New Years spent gathered around the hearth with my cousins, eating doughnuts late into the night and laughing until we were sick. Like the feel of my mother’s hand brushing across my face. 

It smelled like home. 

He had given me a piece of home. 

I was lost for words. 

“I heard you tell Naj about loving these deep fried Shu doughnuts with the beans in them as a child. Why, I’ll never know. Beans don’t belong in doughnuts.” 

I felt like my heart was humming with life. All I could get out was, “It’s sweet mung bean paste. I grew up on those. You haven’t even tried them before.” 

“I did.” He made a disgusted sound. “They made me sick as a dog, and I only had one.” 

“You pasty-faced Kerch are addicted to pure cane sugar. I’m not surprised.” 

“Pasty-faced?” he repeated. 

“Yes. You have the coloring of a corpse, whereas I am like pale gold,” I declared. 

His mouth twitched. 

I smiled. “Thank you, Kaz.” 

“Don’t get sentimental. It’s embarrassing.”

“Shut up.” I cradled it in my hand like it was made of glass. “Thank you,” I said with my eyes. 

He nodded. 

I took a bite, and it was everything I had remembered: the sweet, thick paste sat rich on my tongue. I looked at him, and back at this tiny, enormous act of kindness, and my heart was lost. 

Saints, I would regret this later. 

“I once said that half my heart belonged to Naj, and half belonged to my daughters. Now, I see a small part belongs to you.” 

For a moment, incredulous disbelief overtook his face. “Are you drunk?” 

His reaction made me smirk. “Honestly, Kaz, it’s not like I swore my undying love for you like some swooning damsel. I’m just… glad…that of all the lowlife, murdering criminals I could have gotten stuck with for life, it was you.” I looked down at my ring. “You’d almost pass for a decent man if you weren’t waist-deep in blood and kruge,” I snorted. 

“You can’t be serious,” he said slowly. He looked like I had taken leave of my senses. 

“I must be a very stupid to hold onto something as damning as love... Or perhaps I’m very wise.” I shrugged. “Someday I’ll decide which one I am.” I rose from my chair and crossed the room, reaching for the doorknob.

“It is incredibly stupid when it concerns me.” 

I held the doorknob, and thought. “Well, love does makes people stupid. Yet we always seem to seek it out, don’t we?” I glanced over my shoulder and took in his bemused expression. “I’ll leave you to your business,” I said. I swung the door open, preparing to flee before the mortification hit. 

“Stay.” It was so quiet I almost didn’t catch it. 

Almost. 

I froze. And smiled. “Alright.” I rushed out of the room. 

“Where are you g- never mind…” 

“No, no! Just wait,” I called, jogging back. I held up the thin object in my hand. “Book!”

“Yes, I can see that.” 

I gave him a look. “I need to practice my reading, and I stopped at a good part.” 

“You could help.” 

“I could. And I will if you want it. But you usually end up ignoring most of by my suggestions, even though they’re damn good ones. Anyways, you don’t talk to me, I talk to you. Hence, the book.” I plopped down in the seat by the window and started to read. 

He bent over his papers and held one up to the light, scowling. “I need to handle this deal with these Shu merchants on the west side. They’re a pain in my ass, and none of the Dregs can understand the dialect they speak. I need a translator. And backup, if get ugly.”

“’Backup?’” I quoted, mildly affronted. “I’m not ‘backup’! I’m-”

“-the Blood Dragon, the Cursemaker assassin who’s feared across the country. Yes, I know.” I could have sworn he rolled his eyes. “You never fail to remind me, Meiyu.” 

“If you really want my help,” I turned a page, “say please.”

His response had me grinning. “My darling wife, on my knees, won’t you help your husband tell those Shu merches to quit screwing with my city?” 

I scoffed. “Your city? Since when have you become the reigning sovereign of Ketterdam?” 

Blatant arrogance rolled off him. “Do you see anyone else challenging me?” 

I returned to my book. “You men are ridiculous. Posturing…” I muttered under my breath. 

“Will you help or not?” 

I set down my book and slowly walked over, draping myself over his desk with languid grace. My eyelids dropped low as I met his stoic gaze. “For you? Anything,” I purred. 

His smirk was sharp as broken glass. “Does that usually work?” 

“Yes, actually.” I got up and walked around to his side of the desk. 

Kaz turned the papers over. 

“What time do they want to meet?” I asked, scanning the paper he handed to me. 

“In two days. Nine o’clock in the morning, sharp.”

“Well then, tell them I’ll be there to translate.” I tapped the paper. “I know him.” 

“You do?”

“He’s an arms dealer, and one of biggest steel producers in Shu. A favorite of the Emperor, and it looks like he’s in some deep shit.” I met Kaz’s gaze and smiled like a snake sizing up a mouse. “Darling, how would you like to buy yourself some steel?” 

“And why would I want that?” Testing me, I suppose. 

“Steel is the metal of the future, my dearest love. The world is changing, and Ketterdam will not stay a wood forever. Here’s a chance to redesign the very foundations of this city.”   
Satisfied, Kaz looked over the name again. “What do you need from him?” 

“Anything that connects him to the Purity Movement.” 

“That should be easy enough.” He straightened his tie. “Shame is the most reliable source of revenue in this city, and I intend to make the most of it. 

“True, yet so warped,” I observed. “Kaz Brekker, I think you are the most despicable man I’ve ever had the misfortune of marrying.” 

He smirked. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” 

I folded the letter back up and handed it to him with a flourish. “Do, husband. Do.” 

We both smiled a little more from then on.


	25. The Deal

We arranged to meet the merchants at some seedy bar on the outskirts of town. 

I twisted my hair into a thick, coiled bun, draping my veil over it and folding it into my black and red outfit. I even outlined my eyes with thick slashes of vicious kohl, painting my lips a deep, blood red, just for effect. 

Kaz watched the whole process with a smirk hovering around his mouth. “You’re much vainer than I realized.”

“Women are judged much more harshly than men when it comes to looks. You have your suits; I have this.” I finished smoothing back my wispy curls and turned back to him. “A warrior goes into battle in their finest.” 

He jerked his head. “Time to go.” 

“You’re going?” Naj stood in the doorway, a book clutched in his hand. “Again?” 

“Yes. Your Aunt Nina is coming over to watch you.” 

His face fell, and then it smoothed over. He was unhappy. “Alright.” 

I walked over to him and rested a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll be back by noon. Dui?” 

He nodded. 

I smiled and smacked a big red kiss on the check, just to be a pest. 

He rubbed the mark off, face wrinkled in disgust. “Don’t!”

“When you were little, you used to do the same thing to me!” I laughed. “Now. Give your Da a hug, ei?”

His face scrunched at me and he gave Kaz a tight hug. “Bye Da.” He ran over and hugged me, and I returned it. “Bye, Ma.” He went quickly as he came, thundering up the stairs to read. 

“Don’t give Nina any trouble, haoba?”

No answer. 

“Haoba?”

Silence. 

I scowled up at the ceiling. “Nadir Brekker! Wo z’ao ni ting wo!”

“Alright Mother! Ghezen!” 

“Don’t swear!” I yelled. “It makes you sound coarse!” 

“It’s not swearing in Ketterdam!” 

“And don’t yel-“

Kaz grabbed my arm and hauled me out of the door. 

The window opened up with a creak. 

“Da! You forgot your hat!” 

Said hat sailed out of the open window, flipping brim over top. 

Kaz caught it neatly. “Thanks, Naj,” he called up. 

I waved, and chuckled when a small hand emerged from the window to wave back. 

The tug on my arm returned with full force, and I let myself be led away. 

My husband frog marched me down the road, and I regained enough of my common sense to detach myself from his death grip. “Off.” I shoved his hand away. 

He released me and calmly placed his hat on his head. “Naj is almost ten, and you still sound like a hen clucking over her chick.” 

I shrugged. “It’s part of the job.” 

He made a small noise that distinctively sounded like nagging. 

I pointedly ignored him. 

We reached the front doors of the bar, and I couldn’t help but freeze. 

Kaz followed my gaze. 

A single wooden sign sat, propped up against the dirt-flecked window. It wasn’t very big. Or conspicuous. But still, it screamed. 

I stopped.

I stared at the bold black letters in painted in neat, respectable script, and it stared back at me, in all its respectable ugliness.

No dogs. No Shu. 

I swallowed down my anger. 

“Shall we?” 

I looked over at my husband, who stood holding open the door for me, that strange half-smirk on his face. My eyes narrowed even as I fought the urge to smile. “What are you doing?” 

His eyebrows went up. “Waiting for you to move.” 

I slapped his side without rancor. “Ass,” I grumbled good-naturedly. 

He inclined his head graciously, and I let myself smile. 

Side by side- Kerch and Shu- we stepped through the doors. 

And no one dared stop us. 

…

The merchants were waiting for us in the darkest corner of the room. They were sallow, greasy rats of men, and they took one look at me and sneered. 

The tallest man stepped towards Kaz, completely ignoring me. “We do not do business with your bitch, Brekker.” His accent was so thick even I had trouble understanding him. 

Kaz’s smile was winter itself. “I’d suggest you don’t call her that.” 

His eyes flicked to me. “She is whore.” Those eyes slid down my body as if they had all the time in the world. “Only good to fu-.” 

I met his gaze, and his eyes froze. Widened. A white, cloudy haze spread across them, and his chest rose and fell in panicked gasps. “You…”

His companion whipped his head around. “Sir?...”

The man let out a string of curses in Shi’An Shu, clawing at his eyes. The curses rose to become screams. Screams of fear and pain. 

The people sitting near us kept their gazes locked on their drinks. They knew who we were- but more importantly- they knew not to interfere. 

The smaller man reached out a hand, and promptly got shoved away. “Sir? What’s-“ 

“The filthy slut blinded me, you idiot!” he howled. With a snarl he lunged for my throat, and froze as he felt Kaz’s gun pressing against his forehead. 

The click of the safety echoed through the room. “Call her that again, and I shoot.” My husband’s face was cold with fury.

The bar went quiet. Deathly quiet. 

Kaz’s voice was dark as silk. “Take a seat.” 

He sank back in his seat. 

I rose to my feet, and he paled. “That was a warning.” I turned my gaze to his partner, so tried and failed to hide his fear. “Now. I’m sure you know what will happen if you take such… liberties,” I murmured, “again. Correct?” 

His eyes did their best to find me. “Yes.” The one word dripped with acid.

“Good.” I sat down easily. “I think we understand each other, yes? You are here because you want something from us, and I, ever merciful, will keep from flaying you alive.” I smiled at his bloodless face. “Now. Name your terms, and we shall see if they are to our liking.” 

I nodded to Kaz, who sat forward his seat, hands draped over his cane. “I’ll get right to the point: I control the ships docked in the eastern harbors, which means, I have final say in who comes, and who goes.” He polished the crane’s head, voice mild. “The war in Shu Han is coming to an end, but I know that you, sir, have someone you want to bring over. Someone very important.” 

I translated for him, and watched as the man’s face went bone white. 

“I understand your eldest son has gotten on the wrong side of the Red Guard.” 

My eyes flashed to my husband. 

Without warning he jerked towards me, eyes grappling to find my face. 

Kaz went taut next to me, but I shook my head minutely before turning back. “Speak.” 

“My son has done nothing. He is all I have in this world- just a child. Let me save him.” Pride abandoned, he babbled- begged- for his boy. “You know what this war is like. Have mercy-” 

“Mercy?” My voice was cold.

He opened his mouth to protest, and I found myself disgusted by his gall. 

“Why should I waste my mercy on men like you. You, who sold firearms to the Guards and groveled before the swine who is Emperor-“

“I had no choice-“

I cut him off with razor-sharp efficiency. “Wang LiWei, manufacturer and weapons engineer, oldest son of Wang and avid supporter of the Purity Movement,” I recited. “Your family is old, yes? Old and rich and very close to the royal family- or so I’ve heard.” I pretended to think. “You said you had no choice, but I distinctly remember reading a letter you wrote to our dear Emperor, stating that, “every weapon raised in the name of your grace will be used to its utmost ability to preserve the purity of our nation’s people.” 

His face shone with clammy sweat. 

Kaz nursed his drink, burying his smirk into the liquor. By means unknown, he had managed to procure a translation of that letter for me, and when I read it, I knew how to use it. 

I played with my ring. “Those were dangerous words to write in such a time, Mr. Wang. Dangerous and foolish.” 

“This has nothing to do with my son!” he snapped. “He’s done nothing wrong!” 

I gave him a lipless smile. "I’m Yue’Hai’i, sir. My people did nothing wrong, and you slaughtered us like animals. You killed our children and made us watch.” 

His excuses died on his lips.

I folded my hands. “Blood is the currency of our world, and you have a debt to pay.” 

The man blanched to corpse-grey. “I will find someone else.” He growled, neck-deep in denial. 

“There is no one else,” I told him shortly. “Only him.” 

Kaz didn’t look up once, but now he spoke, and his words carved into the man with the precision a butcher’s knife; taking him apart piece by piece; brick by brick. “Ketterdam has closed its port to all incoming Shu refugees. The only ship that remains in contact with Shu Han is The Wraith, which just so happens to be mine. Now, if for some reason, you are able to prove your boy is worth my time, well, then, I would be more than glad to give him a spot. But if not…” he shrugged, “you might as well slit his throat yourself and save him from being taken by the Guards.” 

Even though he was my enemy, my blood chilled in my veins at what I heard. I repeated what Kaz said and watched the merchant ascend the gallows of his own making. 

Boxed in on all sides, the man’s voice was hollow. “What do you want, Brekker?” 

In that moment, his eyes could have been those of a shark. “Steel.” 

Ah, I thought. He finally took my idea. 

We waited to see how he’d react. 

The man slammed his fist down, spewing every obscenity possible like venom. 

Kaz wiped spittle off his coat without blinking an eye. “You don’t have to translate that.”

I nodded, too grim for words. In their arrogance, few Kerch recognized that the Shu had been forging steel for thousands of years. Perfecting it. Shu steel was worth its weight in gold in some area, prized by our weapon manufacturers for its strength and durability. Unfortunately for this man, my husband was no ordinary Kerch; he knew exactly how valuable it was, because he was married to me. 

“This doesn’t have to be hard.” He leaned forward: a wolf going for the kill. “Your son, or your steel.” 

I relayed the message and watched the man shake and spit with rage: a cornered animal that still frothed at the mouth. 

But there was nowhere to run, and he knew it. 

The man’s blank eyes fixed on Kaz. “Where are the papers?” he croaked. 

Kaz produced them from his pocket, sliding them across along with a fine pen. “You might need help signing them,” he said. 

Usually, watching Kaz pick a man apart like a crow on a corpse was a pitiful ordeal. 

I found I had acquired a taste for it. 

The loathing in the man’s stare alone could have seared a hole through concrete. 

“Well?” He snarled at his assistant, who whitened. “What are you standing there for?” His hand groped across the table for a few seconds before he felt the pen that was held out to him, snatching it violently away. 

The smaller man directed his arm to the blank lines, and in a few vicious slashes, it was done. He winced as the tip broke with a metallic snick. 

Black ink dribbled from the broken tip like blood. 

The merchant all but threw the papers at Kaz, who calmly smoothed out the thick velum, scanning to make sure they were filled out correctly. He pulled out a small paper of his own and began jotting down a note with a new pen, speaking as he did. “Give this to the captain and mention my name. Your son will be here within two weeks.” 

I spoke quickly, offering the note to the assistant. 

The assistant hurriedly took it from him before his master ripped it in his blind fury. “Sir.” He offered it to him wearily, but the man only had eyes of Kaz. “Damn you,” he hissed. 

There was no warmth to be found in the eyes of Dirtyhands. “Thousands of people will be gunned down before they reach the western shore, and if they do survive, only the very rich will be able to afford passage here. The rest will be sent to labor camps to die.” 

The three of us Shu felt the words slice through us. 

Kaz waved down a server for a drink, pouring himself a shot of amber liquor. “Count yourself lucky that your son is one of those lucky few who can afford to live.” 

The man looked like a ghost. 

Mockingly, Kaz lifted his glass to the men in a grim toast. “Ganbei.” 

They looked surprised he knew the words. 

Kaz took his shot and offered me the bottle, triumph in his gaze. 

After a victory like this, I would usually smile. A cold, ruthless smile that we both shared. 

But this time, I didn’t smile back. With the grace of a lady I poured myself- and the two men, for good measure - a drink. I slid the glasses over to them and raised mine. “Ganbei.” I downed it in one gulp, feeling it race down my throat in a vile, fiery trail. 

I felt vaguely sick, but not from the liquor. 

With a twist of my wrist, I flipped the glass down and snapped it to the table. 

My husband I turned our eyes to the men, waiting. 

The smaller man stared back at us, fear in his eyes. “Ganbei,” he murmured. He tossed his own back and set his glass down with a soft tap. 

The steel baron’s hand wandered along the table until he felt the glass under his fingers. 

We all watched as they wrapped around it with a brutal intensity; the fight seemed to leech out of him all at once, until only a tattered man remained: the carcass of Dirtyhand’s newest kill.

“Ganbei.”

He drank hill fill. 

The cup slammed down with a hollow bang.  
…

We returned home, but I felt as if something had shifted out of position- like a tooth that was not quite right: digging into your gum: a small but constant pain. 

Kaz held the door open for us. “I’d call that a successful day’s work.” He sounded highly pleased. 

I trudged through the door, drained. “I suppose so.” 

Kaz glanced over at me. 

I headed straight for the water pump to get water for a bath, sliding the bucket underneath so the water poured in. It heated within moments with my magic. Baths were a luxury I rarely could afford, but now, I felt like I needed one to wash off the filthiness of what I’d just been a part of. 

Kaz’s voice was at my shoulder. “You’re going to cook yourself in that.” 

I raised an eyebrow, and serenely lowered my hand in the water as it boiled. “Firebreather, remember?” I pulled it out, dripping, and he saw I was untouched. 

“Impressive.” 

I nodded, tired. “I’ll be out soon.” 

His eyes followed me as I walked silently to my room. 

I closed the door and bolted it, stripping down to just my scales and I sank into the water with a sigh. Steam rose up in little curls, and I ducked my head under the water, soaking in the heat. Cursemakers weren’t completely coldblooded, per say, but temperatures that burned most normal people felt wonderful to us. I wound my arms around my knees, sighing. Trying to unravel my tense muscles and frayed nerves. Finally I gave up and tipped my head back, staring at the ceiling. 

Minutes ticked by in blessed silence. 

Steam rose up in frosted columns. 

Eventually, the water began to cool, so I unwound my hair to proper clean it. 

After all these years it now fell down in a long cascade of black, greasy from the oil I had continuously combed through it to keep it clean. I felt around for the ragged bar of soap, and for the first time in weeks, I washed my hair, watching with satisfaction as the oil and dirt floated across the water. 

I only wished I could do the same to my soul, I thought darkly. 

A knock made me stiffen. 

I stepped out of the water and dried myself mechanically, wrapping a strip of fabric tightly around my breasts so I could pull on a slip. “Just a moment.” 

The silence behind the door made me huff. 

I unbolted it with a flick of the wrist and swung it open. “What?” My hair hung down my back in silky ropes, soaking patches through the thin fabric. 

Admirably, his eyes never strayed below my face. “You were in there for a long time.” 

“Not that long.” I leaned against the doorframe, crossing my arms. “I know we’re married, but could you not linger while I bathe? It makes whatever this is complicated,” I joked wryly. 

His face didn’t change. “War is never fair. You and I both know that.” There was something in his voice that made me slump. “We’re bringing over as many people who deserve to be saved as we can.” 

“I know that.” I stared up at him, weary. “I don’t have to like it, though.” 

“We’ve both done worse things, Meiyu.” 

I chuckled humorlessly. “It’s the corruption I hate.” 

“Corruption is what makes Ketterdam tick.” 

I pushed my damp hair over my shoulder. “I’m a mercenary. I’d rather shoot someone than have to make these shady deals.” 

“What were you during the war, exactly?” Those dark eyes saw right through me. “A general?” 

“Kaz,” I warned. 

“Ambassador?” 

“Don’t ask me what I was.” 

His eyebrows rose. “By the tone of your voice, I’ll have to guess higher.”

My fingers drummed along my arm, restless. “Breaking a neck is much easier than what we have to do here.” A full truth. 

“Which is why we do what we do.” 

“I know.” I rubbed my temple to fend off my growing headache. 

Kaz’s was silent for a moment. Assessing. 

“I would have never been able to secure a spot on your ship.” I tipped my head back against the hard wood, eyes sliding shut. “I should have died in Shu Han, years ago.”

“You shouldn’t think about that,” he said. 

“Strange, how the world works.” I looked past him, eyes far away. “I was nothing. Nothing and no one… just like you said.” 

His brow creased at his old words, but he didn’t move. 

I blinked, remembering something.

“What?” 

I pulled myself upright, a hint of shyness creeping into me. “I have something for you.” 

“For me.”

“Yes.” I darted into my room, twisting my hair up in a horrendous bun as I threw a shawl over myself to dignify myself. “I’ve been developing it for a while, but I wasn’t sure whether it would work,” I called over my shoulder, “I was experimenting with my magic…”

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“Shut up, Kaz.” I finally found the little parcel tucked away in a drawer, and I plucked it out, and turned. “This…this is for you.” Awkward as hell, I thrust it out at him, feeling my cheeks heat with embarrassment. 

He didn’t take it. 

“Oh, here!” I shoved it into his hand. 

He looked down at it. “What is it?”

I growled under my breath. “Just open it, you shagua.” 

Careful as ever, his fingers pried open the box to reveal… “Scales?” His eyes found mine, even more dubious. 

My lips twitched. “Not exactly.” I gently picked one up with the fabric of my shawl, and as I came in contact with it grew, elongating into a long bar striped with black and gold. “This,” I held it up, “holds…memories. Cursemaker scales, when alive, are very receptive to touch. We only allow family or very close friends to come into contact with them, because we can…feel…what they’re feeling. Sometimes we can even see what they’ve seen.” 

“That’s...” he looked at the scale in my hand. “I was going to say impossible, but I don’t think I can now.” 

I smiled at his reaction. “It’s how we used to communicate- when we used to be just beasts with no language.” I turned the scale to the light. “The gold records visual memories,” I explained, pointing. “The black records sounds.”

“I’m assuming I have to touch this with my bare skin,” he said lowly. 

I sighed internally. “…Yes.” 

“I see,” was all he said. 

I huffed. “I’ve amplified its memory absorption for human touch- don’t worry, you only have to touch them once. It’ll remember you, and only you, to work.” I offered it to him. “Here.” 

He didn’t move. “I can’t.” 

“It won’t work unless you touch it.” I scowled at his hesitation. “You either touch it with your hand, or you lick it.”

His eyebrows disappeared into his hairline, and he smirked. “That doesn’t sound right.” 

“It’s not my fault your mind is filthy,” I said stiffly. 

That crooked, knowing smile of his made me cringe. 

“Wipe that stupid look off your face,” I growled. Impatient and trying not to blush, I shook the box at him. “Hurry up then!” 

Slowly, he pulled off one of his gloves, and I fought tooth and nail not to stare at his perfectly normal hands, almost naked without the gloves. They were strong hands, with the long, clever fingers of a thief, but Saints, they were so pale. I suppose that made sense if they rarely saw the light of day. 

Those long fingers skated over each scale, taking in the soft glow that rippled along them like water, and all too soon the glove was pulled back on. “Done?” 

I nodded, fighting a pleased grin. “The best part is, if you record a visual memory, you can replicate it. Just press the scale onto paper, and the magic will leave a residue in the shape of what you see.” 

“Is that what the black liquid is? When you curse someone?” 

“Right you are, husband, dear.” 

Kaz stared at the box of scales in his hand for the longest time. “I want to try recording a...visual memory.” 

“Alright. What of?” 

“Naj.” 

“Oh, that’s a good idea! Anything else?” 

He clutched the box like it was precious, and his eyes met mine. And didn’t move. “Just in case you get kidnapped,” he asserted, deadpan. 

I laughed weakly. “Very funny.” I twisted my shawl tight in my hands to keep them for fidgeting. “But really, there has to be something else.” 

“I’m serious, Meiyu.” 

I swallowed. “I look like I’m half drowned.” 

“You look fine.” His eyes flicked down my body and back up. “Maybe I’ll just focus on your face,” he said smoothly, and my shyness went up in smoke at the sight of that smug male look. 

“You better,” I warned darkly. 

“Naj,” he called without looking away, “come down here.”

“Okay, Da!” 

Naj proceeded to thunder down the stairs with his usual grace. 

It took everything I had not to yank my shift down.

Kaz’s smirk deepened as I hurriedly I grabbed a long, richly colored sheet of silk- the nicest one I owned- from my trunk and wrapped it around me so it swooped across my body and fell over my shoulder to my ankles in loose folds. The material’s pattern was simple and elegant, but it was woven by a master with the best quality silk, and the colors shifted with every bit of light that touched it: green, blue, gold. My favorites. 

It wasn’t a common Shu way of dressing- that was more of the heavy, drooping silk sleeves and sumptuous, embroidered skirts and twisted hair so tight and elaborate your scalp felt like it was separating from your skull. No, this was how the women of my tribe dressed when they were trying to be more comfortable but still look good. 

I summoned a sharp pin from my dresser and stuffed it between my lips so I could undo my bun. “You men have it so easy,” I muttered around the cold metal. I considered wearing my veil, but for the first time in years, I decided against it. 

My hair tumbled down my back in waterlogged waves. 

“You don’t have to dress so formally,” he replied in amusement. 

I spat the pin into my waiting and thrust it through the gathered pleats, pinning it together in one key spot while trying to wring my damp hair out one-handed. “I am not having my portrait taken in my undergarments, thank you very much.” 

“Pity.” 

I would have made an obscene gesture, had Naj not appeared in the doorway, panting from his run. “Hey Da.” He looked at me, and my outfit. “Why are you dressed up, Ma?” 

Kaz smiled, for real this time. “Could you grab a piece of paper for me, son? One of the nice sheepskin ones from my desk?”

“Sure!” Naj darted away, only to reappear with the thick sheet. “Here you go, Da!” He handed it over, and Kaz thanked him. 

He picked a scale from the box and glanced at me. “Well? How does this work?” 

“Gold for what you see,” I reminded. “Black for what you hear.” 

“And I just…” his finger rested on the gold, “like this?”

I nodded. “Hold it for a few seconds and focus on what you see: every little detail. It will remember and copy it.” 

Naj looked thoroughly befuddled. “What are you two talking about?” His eyes fell on the scale. “What is that?” 

I yanked him over to me and chuckled at his indignant, “Hey!” 

“Shh.” I smiled down at him and whispered, “Pretend you like your mother, dui?” 

A minuscule smile took the edge of his rolling eyes. 

“Now,” I turned his shoulders to Kaz, “think of something happy.” 

“This is so weird,” he mumbled. But his eyes gleamed with laughter, and I clasped his hand in mine and let myself smile the tiniest bit. 

A minute later, the scale turned black as pitch, and Kaz pressed it to the thick paper. 

We watched as the black seep out like spilled ink, spreading faster and faster as threads of it jumped and sped across the paper to form lines and shapes and faces. 

Two faces, to be exact.

“Whoa,” Naj whispered when it was done. 

I couldn’t help but agree. 

We all stared down at the newly made portrait of Naj and I. 

I could hardly believe how much he had grown up. At eleven, his face was more angular- older- and I saw Kaz in the sharp lines. But his eyes…I used to think those were his eyes, but now I could see they were hers. They tilted up and crinkled in the corners with his smile. Still, he was so serious now- even when he did smile. 

What happened to the round-faced child who used to sing silly Shu songs with me and beg for Tick Tock?

“You’re so tall,” I said in wonderment. “When did you get so tall?” 

“I’m not that tall.” 

I pretended to wipe my eyes with my shawl. “Stop growing up, Naj!” 

“Ma, cut it out,” he laughed. 

“I’m sorry! It’s just…” I waved my hand over his face. “You children grow so fast.” 

Kaz, though much more subdued, seemed to agree with me. 

In the picture, Naj looked at us with his father’s half-smile gracing his lips, eyes dark with humor, hair… a gods-awful mess! 

I poked Naj in the ribs. “Aiyo! Look at that hair! So sloppy! Did you even brush it this morning?” 

“Ma! It’s fine,” he groused. “That’s what it always looks like.”

“It’s too long,” I mumbled. 

“Ma, come on!”

Kaz’s eyes never left the portrait. “You’re fighting a losing battle, Meiyu.” He scanned my face, and he smirked at me as he nodded at it. “Yours doesn’t look much better.” 

I tamped down my smile as I saw myself. My long hair was sleek and glossy and wild, curving around my face and hanging in waves until it almost brushed my waist. I stood behind my son with my hand entwined with his. The proud look on my face was serene, but full of quiet joy. 

Before, when I had gotten my portrait drawn, my face was hollowed out by grief and anger. But now, from the slope of my neck to the curve of my cheek, I no longer seemed starved of life. 

For the first time in years, I thought I looked genuinely happy. At peace with my life. 

It was the most amazing portrait I had ever seen.

I nudged Kaz, snapping him out of his stupor. “So,” I hedged, “do you like the gift?” 

A muscle in his jaw clenched as his eyes drifted back to the picture. He seemed to struggle to say anything. “Yes,” he admitted finally. Honestly. 

The depth of his gratitude surprised me. “I know your memory is very good,” I said, “but I think, sometimes, it’s important to make sure they don’t stay locked in your head, yes?” 

He picked up the paper and just stared and stared. 

“Now you can take us along when you go away, Da.” Naj’s voice crackled with humor. “And then when you’re held hostage, you can pull this out and be like, ‘Please don’t kill me! I have a wife and child!” He clasped his hands imploringly; eyes wide and beseeching like a martyr on his way to the gallows. 

Kaz’s eyes flashed to his son, who broke character with a snort with laughter. “I have a little more pride than that, thank you,” he smirked. “But I’ll keep that in mind if I get desperate.” His tone was dry, but he looked happier than I’d seen him in a while. 

I slapped Naj on the arm, and he continued to laugh. “Naj! Don’t joke about such things!” I pointed at the ceiling. “Keep talking like that, and one day bad luck will fall and boom!-hit you right over the head like a rock!” 

Naj shook his head. “Ma, bad luck isn’t real!”

“Ha! That’s what I thought until I married your father.” 

“I feel like I should take offense to that.” 

I waved him off. “Naj, listen to your mother: bad luck follows those who believe they are untouchable!” I held a hand to my heart. “I should know- I’m the queen of bad luck!” 

Naj laughed at me. “You’re so superstitious, Ma,” he said affectionately. “It’s sad.” 

I took my sandal off and waved it threateningly at him. “Watch your mouth, young man.” 

He cringed instinctively as it sailed under his nose. “Not the shoe!” he whined. 

Kaz’s cane rested on the shoe and pushed it down. “Meiyu, do you always have to be hitting people left and right?” 

I stuffed my foot back into the shoe and faced him head-on. “Yes. I do, actually.”

“I think I need to separate you from my child so you don’t beat him into a pulp.” 

“I am not a child abuser!” I exclaimed, hands on hips. 

Naj grumbled in disagreement.

Kaz eyes glittered with humor, and I almost died of shock when he offered me his hand. “Walk with me.” 

“Absolutely not,” I scoffed. 

“Why?” 

“Because that’s what normal couples do,” I smiled sweetly, “and I despise those lovesick fools.”

Wry amusement was written all across my husband’s face. 

Naj began sneaking out of the room at top speed. 

“Hey! Ni qu na’er?” I asked pointedly at his rapidly retreating back. 

“You weren’t paying attention, so I’m running away!” he yelled. 

I grinned, and Kaz steered me in the direction of the door. “Come on.” 

“Wait!” I quickly shed my fine silk and opted for a simple cotton wrap this time. An outfit for a normal day. Within a minute I had tied and tucked and pulled it around me so there was no worry of it slipping off. “Alright. I’m good now.” 

“Finally.” 

I peered out the window. “It’s pouring out there!” I protested. “We’ll catch a cold and die!” 

“You have magic, don’t you?” 

With a roll of my eyes, I ignored his hand and looped my arm in his instead. “Fine.” I gave him a surly look. “But if we catch a cold from this awful rain, I’m blaming you.” 

Kaz stared straight ahead. “Always so pleasant.” 

I shoved him- hard- and let myself be drawn back by his tiny smile; my arm tucked in his gave me pause. “You really don’t mind this,” I said skeptically, eyeing our closeness. 

He straightened his coat. “For appearance sake, let’s just pretend we’re just two people out for a walk-“

“-in the pouring rain? In the worst part of the Barrel?”

“Precisely.” He pulled the door open. “I also need to fit under your umbrella.” 

I couldn’t help but laugh at that, and his eyes found mine, softening the slightest amount. 

We stepped out onto the winding streets of Ketterdam, and I used my magic to project a shining ‘umbrella’ over us as we splashed our way through the puddles that littered the cobblestone street. The velvety rain pattered down to earth like drops of glass, and the smell was cool and sweet: heavy with the scent of cloud-fresh water. 

“Wait.” 

Kaz glanced at he out of the corner of his eye.

I held my hand out and welcomed the fall of rain onto my skin; it pooled in the palms of my hands, and soon, I lifted the water to my lips, and drank the essence of my name. 

Mad with some old forgotten joy, I pressed the umbrella into Kaz’s hand (he seemed a bit surprised that he could hold it) and leapt out into the pattering deluge, throwing my veil back in a wild act of abandon so I could feel the cool liquid slide into my hair and down my face. 

Above me, the weeping sky was all manners of greys and greens and blues, and if I closed my eyes, it was like I was back home, dancing through the warm rain like I used to when I was a girl; sucking in lungfuls of rain-kissed air, I held my veil behind me in both hands and spun under the shower of droplets: splashing through the puddles of water with no rhyme or reason or thought except for what was in front of me. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Celebrating,” I gasped, whirling around to face Kaz. “I’m celebrating.” 

“What?” 

I smiled and pointed at the sky. “This.” 

“The rain?” 

“Yes.” 

“Why?” he asked. 

“Because I can,” I answered. 

Unimpressed, Kaz raised his eyebrows. “Are you through?” 

“Yes.” I sloshed over to shuffled underneath the umbrella. “I’m through,” I declared lightly. 

Side by side, we continued on our walk, and it felt right. It felt good. 

“You know,” I remarked offhandedly, “if anyone told me that I’d be walking arm in arm with Dirtyhands- Bastard of the Barrel- my husband- I would have told them to suck a good one.” 

“You have one of the filthiest mouth I’ve ever heard.” 

“I was a Penny- what do you expect?” I patted his arm. “Anyways, if I were an innocent maiden, I wouldn’t have touched you with a fifty foot pole,” I replied bluntly. 

“If you were an innocent maiden, I wouldn’t have even bothered looking at you.” 

“And why is that?”

He shrugged, nonchalant. “Nothing to see.” 

I grappled for words in the face of his infuriating smirk. 

No one was around; we had walked a good ways from home, and as I saw a huge puddle on the side of the road, and a wicked idea came upon me. Eyes trained forward, I snapped my fingers, pulling myself out of his grasp and lunging out of the way as the sheet of water rose up.

“What…” His head whipped to me around as it dawned on him. “You-“ 

The water fell onto him with a resounding crash. 

He stood there, soaked to the bone, a look of pure, utterly delicious shock gracing his usually cool, collected face. Sopping wet, everything- from his fine coat to his dark hair- drooped. 

I doubled over, dying with laughter. “I’ve waited eight years to see you like this, Kaz Brekker!” I crowed gleefully, recovering long enough to add, “You look like you’re melting!” 

“I…” His mouth snapped shut. “You’re going to pay for that.” 

If he didn’t look so ludicrous, I would have sobered up from that murderous look alone. 

Warning, he took a step towards me. 

Quick as a flash, I swung my magic up to shield myself from the rain and ran away as fast as my feet could carry me, giggling like a young girl the whole way. When I looked back, I almost choked as I realized Kaz was very close behind in hot pursuit. 

His cane shot out, and I felt my feet get swept out from under me. 

“Shit!” I yelped. 

Lucky as ever, I tumbled into the biggest- and only- puddle of mud on the street with a loud slock! 

Face first. 

I just lay there for a second, reeling with disgust and shock. 

A pair of shoes stopped in front of my line of vision. “You look lovely, Meiyu.” 

Sitting up, I spat a mouthful of muck at his feet and glared up him. “Fuck you.” 

He leaned over me, arms draped lazily atop his came. “Come now. A bit of mud won’t kill you.” I gave him the nastiest look I could muster, and if I didn’t know any better, I would say the smile he sported was almost a grin- sadistic, yes, but a grin. “That was quite the fall. Let me help you.” He held his hand out, and I shoved it away. 

I scrambled to my feet, doing my best to mop the filth off my face. All it did was spread. “I wasn’t nearly this cruel,” I growled. “You got water. I got mud!”

“It’s very becoming,” he offered. “Brings out your eyes.” 

“Fuck off.”

His fingers drummed along his cane. “If those scales were so valuable, I’d save a picture of you right here, right now, with that look on your face,” he told me. 

I stomped away, letting the rain pour down on me. 

God. I needed another bath. 

“Where are you going?” Kaz’s voice mocked me all the way down the street, filled with laughter. “Come back, darling wife!” 

I put every ounce of loathing into the middle finger I aimed over my shoulder. 

“Meiyu?”

Shit. 

I turned around and forced my lips into a smile. “Nina! Haojiu’bujian!” 

“Saints…” Nina’s eyes were like saucers as she stared at me, groceries in one arm, umbrella held aloft in another. “What happened to you?!” 

I bared my teeth. “Ask him,” I spat, jerking my thumb over at Kaz’s approaching form. 

Nina gaped in disbelief. “Kaz?” 

He did his best to wring out his clothes. “Hello, Nina.” 

Her hand flew to her hips. “What did you do to her?” she asked accusingly. 

“Nothing she didn’t do first.” 

I pulled Nina aside. “Listen to me, my friend: I’ve had two husbands, and they both have been nothing but misery.” I shook my finger in her alarmed face. “When a man asks you to marry him,” I hissed in Ravkan, “make him get on his knees- his knees- and swear on his mother’s grave he’ll treat you right! I don’t care if he has more money than the damn Tsar of Ravka- if he is anything- anything- like this-this- cockroach, prepare to live in hell!” 

Kaz straightened his fine silk tie, now ruined. “Calling me a cockroach is rather harsh,” he said, matter-of-fact. “Although, they are incredibly resilient creatures.” 

I rounded on him. “Say one more thing-” I hissed, “-and I’ll cut your balls off with a blunt knife and gag you with them.” 

He had the decency to look slightly less smug. 

Nina pressed her lips together until they turned white. 

“Anyways.” I turned back to her. “It was good seeing you, my friend. Take care.” 

“You too,” she choked through her laughter. Her eyes darted between us, and some old sadness dulled their light as she took my hand and tugged me close enough so she could speak only to me. “You two seem very happy,” she murmured. 

“Trust me, it doesn’t last,” I snorted. 

The green of her eyes was much too knowing. “You’re the best thing both of them needed. I can tell he cares for you as deeply as her.” 

My petulant anger crumbled to dust. 

I shook my head to dispel my darkening thoughts. “You shouldn’t say such things,” I murmured. “It makes this too hard.” 

Nina looked on the verge of saying something, but she saw the firm look in my eyes and ducked her head, nodding. 

“Goodbye Nina.” I gently let go of her hand and stepped away. “Safe travels.” 

“Goodbye Meiyu. Kaz.” Nina looked at us one last time and shook her head, turning sharply on her heels and to walk away, umbrella dark against her shock of reddish-brown hair. 

Muddied and fuming, I found the nearest alley to hide in. 

“Are you alright?” Kaz stood in the rain, clothes dripping with water. 

I stop scraping mud off my hands long enough to sneer at him. “No.” 

“I didn’t mean for you to land on your face.” His lips twitched. “In the mud.” 

“Like hell you didn’t!” I shoved my matted hair back. “I loathe you.” 

“I can see that.” The humor in his gaze faded slightly. “But that’s not what I meant.” 

I grumbled under my breath as I surveyed the wreckage. Now, with all the madness done and over with, I wasn’t sure why I was happy; Ghezen, I wasn’t sure I was happy. 

Suddenly he stood close enough to make me freeze. 

“What?” I griped. I twisted around to peer at the rest of me and grimaced. 

“You don’t look well.”

I blinked at his tone. Swallowed. Turned back to face him properly. 

And rolled my eyes. 

“What now?”

“You’re a mess,” I muttered. My hands rose without thought, reaching up to straighten the flap of his (tailored) coat so it lay smooth again, and I squinted at the molten stains marring the dark, expensive fabric. “Ghezen. How much did you pay for this?” 

His fingers twitched around his cane but he didn’t pull away. “Not that much.” 

I rolled my eyes. “You’re such a liar, Kaz.” My pale fingers were flecked with earth, stark against the wool. “Vinegar,” I murmured decidedly. “Do we have any?”

“I’m sure we do.” 

“Hm.” I wiped my hands off as best I could on my ruined skirt and stepped back; we were standing much closer than I realized. “Give it to me when we get home,” I continued blithely. “I’m not paying for a launder.” 

A tiny frown marred his features as he watched me. 

I glanced up at him. “What?” 

“Nothing.” His voice was perfectly neutral, but I wasn’t fooled. 

I nodded distantly. Almost without noticing it, I began to remember that the anniversary of my daughter’s death was this week. It was in a few days, and here I was, running down the street like a wild horse, laughing. How wrong it was: I had spent so long pushing it in the back of my head- refusing to look at the calendar- I had almost forgotten. And now, when I stopped moving, stopped bantering and joking and acting like everything was normal- it crawled back into my mind and festered. I laughed, and I had no right to, because she was dead and I wasn’t. 

What kind of mother was I?

The sharpness in Kaz’s face changed imperceptibly. “Walk with me.” 

Quickly, I let my dark thoughts be tucked away. “Do the world a favor, and go jump off a bridge.” 

He leaned on his cane. “I’m sorry to tell you, but there are no bridges tall enough to do any damage,” he smirked. 

I flicked some dried bits off of me in disappointment. “Damn.” 

There was that strange smile again. “What if I said it would make me happy?” 

“Ha!” I scoffed. “When are you ever happy?” 

He shrugged, twirling his cane. “This seems as close as I’ll ever get.” The cane came down, and the arm came up just an inch. An invitation. 

I eyed his arm with a healthy amount of distrust. “You better not try anything,” I warned. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied smoothly. 

“Hm.” I slipped my hand through the crook of his elbow. What could it hurt?

Arm in arm, we headed back towards home, neither one of us bothering to use an umbrella. 

The rain had slowed to a light sprinkle, and each drop seemed to dance in the puddles like grains of sand sprinkled by a generous hand. 

I lifted up the hem of my ruined skirt with an air of a well-bred lady. 

His cane tapped along the road, gilded by droplets of water. 

By the time we rounded the corner, the sun had emerged- just enough to turn each molding board and brick into an ink drawing etched with the palest gold leaf. Sometimes, I forgot that Ketterdam could be beautiful, even though it was only greys and browns. 

“The mud really does bring out your eyes,” he remarked. 

I kept those eyes trained directly ahead. “Kaz,” I said, “stop talking.” 

We didn’t look at each other, but I had a feeling both of us were trying not to smile.  
…

That day came like it always did: the day my child slipped from this world, and it felt like I was drowning, same as always. Weak as I was, I found myself disappearing again; I forgot the who and the where and the when and went spiraling down into the void of my mind. 

Kaz emerged from his office and talked to me, the same way he always did: hard, cutting, and quiet enough for me to hear him. 

I couldn’t bring myself to respond, but I listened. 

And as time went on, I found that I could breathe a little easier than I once did, because I sat with my son; my son, who made me smile even when I thought I couldn’t. 

And then there was my husband, who dragged me from my usual spot at the window so I didn’t fade away again; who forwent the customary words of condolences-the sad, heartfelt conversations- and instead discussed his plans for the Shu steel in the kitchen with me while he made his obscenely rich stamppot for dinner, with thick slices of crispy sausages glistening with fat and that weird, green-tinted mash the that looked vaguely revolting but tasted like heaven. (The fact that I didn’t have to make it made it taste even better.) 

While it cooked, we debated- well, argued- about what to do with the steel just as fiercely as we once did when we first met, and when the food was done and we had run out of air and topics to bicker about, all of us ate it together in a rare kind of peace. 

Sometimes, it’s these small, normal things that give you the strength to move on. I thanked the Saints with all my heart that even if I didn’t have had my girls or my family, I had them. 

Ah, me. Those two were my life. 

My whole life.


	26. Blood Ties (Year 8)

I heard the shots, one after another.

They reverberated down the street like thunder.

The man’s chuckle gurgled even as I had him by his windpipe. “Look’s like Dirtyhands finally got what was coming to him,” he hissed.

I felt myself go slack.

No no no no.

He started to laugh.

I looked up, and then back down, cold as ice.

I slashed his throat with my talons and ran, not caring where he fell.

I saw the cane.

And then I saw him.

And the blood.

No.

“No. No no no no.” My knees hit the ground as I bent over him. “You IDIOT! You stupid, fucking idiot!” My hands shook as I crumpled his coat in my hands. Frantic, I tore a section of my shirt to try and staunch the flow, but there was so much blood. My hands spanned him, watching his lifeblood seep through my fingers.

Too fast. Too much.

No one lost that much and lived.

“Oh my God.” Shock numbed me to my core. “You’re dying.”

He grunted in weak agreement. His every breath was an awful gurgle that wheezed with blood. Blood trickled from his mouth. A bullet had ripped through his stomach. Another had shattered some ribs. It was a miracle one hadn’t hit his spine.

I leaned over him, practically breathing fire. “I’m going to kill you!” I screamed.

Another line of blood trickled down his mouth, and even fatally shot, Kaz scraped together the tiniest of smirks.

Now- now I was mad. I was furious. I was so angry I didn’t even notice that I started to cry.

God. I was a mess, then.

His eyes slid to mine as his heart kept pumping pools of red under my hands. “Take care of Naj, Meiyu.” The calm acceptance in those words was more than I could bear.

“Don’t...” I felt lightheaded: dizzy and terrified at what was actually happening. “Don’t leave.” Salty, hot tears went sliding down my face, peppering his shirt in a dozen different places. “Everyone leaves, Kaz.”

He gripped my hand, but weakly.

I dashed away my tears, my hands sticky with gore. “Kaz?” I turned his face to mine, and when he didn’t cringe from my touch, my whole body went cold. “Kaz?”

The blood kept coming.

A few more seconds and he’d die.

I growled.

Reaching into my hidden scale, I pulled out my long knife of black jade, unsheathing it in one brutal motion and raising the knife before me. I cut my hand and watched the flesh split: red as the inside of a watermelon.

Blood splashed across the ground in a long trail, but I hardly felt it.

This had to work.

(If it didn’t, we’d both be dead.)

I clenched my teeth so hard they hurt.

With sloppy, frantic strokes I painted the character for heal across his chest, barely able to see through the blood and the panic. I pressed my palm down- pressed my blood into him- and- ignoring his muffled groan- began chanting in the language of Cursing, the ancient words ringing in my head like a bell, familiar and alien.

Life for life, I begged. Please.

A voice, a voice of magic, whispered in the deepest part of me: “ _Will you pay the price?”_

I didn’t hesitate one moment. Yes.

Then it is done.

I watched gold mist flood through the character, painting the strokes in light. It was different than when I cursed: warmer, almost like sunlight in its purest form. The tendrils coiled around Kaz and I like a shining cocoon, connecting us.

The magic took effect like a bolt of lighting though the whole of my being, paralyzing me. My heart beat steadily, pulsing with life, and the magic pulsed in time with it, feeding into Kaz. Streaks of silvery grey shot through my hair. My muscles ached down to the marrow of my bones.

Kaz groaned as each of the bullets slipped out with a soft clink.

I watched as bones knit, as blood seeped back into veins like time had been rewound. Muscle wove itself back together, and the puckered wounds closed up, skin crawling over the holes until the only thing left of the character was a blackened mark.

My very life force slipping through my fingers- faster and faster- like a river flowing downhill as the spell started to accelerate- and it took all my strength to sever the connection.

“The price has been paid. From blood to blood, it is done.”

The final words dropped from my mouth like stones.

Kaz moaned, rolling to his side. He convulsed, hacking up clots of blood and sticky fluid from his lungs, which looked black and red and grey: like bits of blood sausage mixed with animal fat… It looked…I felt my mouth fill with saliva.

Saints forgive me-

I lunged away, suddenly sick. My throat burned, but sweet relief rush through my system, dulling the panic. It worked. Saints alive- it actually worked.

And I was alive.

I let my arms fold around my middle as I sank to the ground. There is no going back from this, I thought grimly. I have so little time left, now. As my strength returned, my mood blackened.

A movement caught my attention. With bleary eyes I saw Kaz sit up and take in his surroundings. “I…” He felt his torso for wounds that no longer existed. It looked like I finally struck him dumb. “I should be dead.”

“Get up.” I grabbed a handful of his shirt and yanked him to his feet.

He shook me off to pick up the bullets, sticky with blood. “I.... what was that?” He looked at me with something like fear in his eyes.

“Xue shenghuo.”

“Blood life?”

“Most people see it as black magic. Even the Grisha consider it unnatural.” I wiped my hands off on my shirt and flinched. The cut still bled; the pain was jagged and throbbing. “Are you alright? Can you stand?”

He glanced at me, wary. “Yes.”

“Good,” I said.

And then punched him as hard as I could in right in his stupid face.

He staggered back and almost fell. “What the fuck was that for?” He bellowed, clutching a hand to his eye. I had never heard him yell that loud before.

“What were you thinking? Running off like that!” I was nose to nose with him, angry beyond words. “You- you were so stupid. For fuck’s sake- what happened?!”

Icy, sullen silence.

Something to do with Inej. It was always about Inej.

“Here.” I picked up his cane and slammed it into his now-healed chest. “Do what you want. I’m going home.” Fuming, I spun on my heel and marched off, muttering obscenities in every language I knew as I went. Asshole. I didn’t look back to see if he was keeping up.

We got inside the house and I headed straight for the water basin. Thank goodness Naj was gone today at Wylan and Jesper’s; it wouldn’t do for him to see me kill his Da. I ignored the towel and dunked my face straight in the water, scrubbing furiously. The water ran red, and with a shower of droplets, I pulled myself out, bracing my hands on the rim of the bowl.

A haggard, gaunt face stared back at me from the cracked mirror.

Ghezen, I was so dead…

“Why is your hair turning grey?” He sounded out of breath, and the thought of him having to work to keep up with me was infinitely satisfying. “It wasn’t before.”

“Really? I never noticed.” I dripped sarcasm.

“Stop.” He stepped into the light. There was a sickly green pallor to his skin. His eye was already bruising from my fist, color blooming in light shades of purple and dark blue.

I didn’t feel a bit sorry.

“Why is your hair grey?”

“I aged.”

“Aged?” I could hear the disbelief coloring his voice.

I sighed. If he didn’t know, he would figure it out eventually. “I mean, I literally, aged.”

“How?”

I lifted my eyes skyward. “It’s complicated.”

“Then explain. Does this happen when you curse people?”

“No.”

“Can all Cursemakers do this?”

“Yes. But very few do. This kind of magic is unpredictable- nearly impossible to control. It’s incredibly dangerous, and it can backfire. Horribly.”

“Which is why you stick to Cursing,” he finished.

“We can’t risk people finding out that we can do this.” I looked at him steadily. “A Cursemaker’s magic could keep you alive even if you’re at death’s door, but our life is forfeit. We’ve been hunted to extinction for it.” I looked down at my bloodied hands, struck by a funny, ugly thought. “The Ice Palace would seem like pennies in comparison to my corpse.”

He stiffened at my light tone. “I’m not a butcher.”

“No?” My laughter grated my own nerves. “But you told Nina you would have ‘put me down’ if I had become a threat; as if I were a dog.”

“I should never have said that.” He sounded angry with himself.

“But you believed it. You believed I was nothing more than an animal.” I shook my head, needing him to hear what I was trying to say. “We may not be completely human, but that doesn’t mean we’re monsters.”

Remorse flitted across his face. “I know.”

“And yet…” My cracked reflection made me feel ancient. “I’ve gotten so good at killing people.” I clenched my cut hand and watched it ooze. “Was the first time hard for you?” I asked abruptly.

When he didn’t answer, I answered myself.

“Well- most people say yes,” I said, “but I can tell you right now: killing him was the easiest thing I’ve ever done in my life, and Saints forgive me, it’s only gotten easier…” Now, I spoke to the floorboards. “Sometimes, I think I’m human, but then I cut someone’s throat, or break their neck, and I... don’t even care… Ghezen, what does that make me?” I let out a breath and grimaced, suddenly aware of mad my rambling. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”

“Don’t apologize to me. Ever.” He rose to his feet, businesslike once more. “So. Now that I know what happened…How much time did you lose healing me?”

I blinked, disorientated. “I’m not sure.” I rubbed my forehead. “Five years. No more than ten.”

“Five years?” He shook his head. “Then how old are you?”

“Really? That’s what you ask?” I huffed, feeling more like myself now. “ I think... I was around 32. Give or take. Now I’m about...38? 40?”

His eyes widened.

I stretched and my back popped. And my hips. And my knees. I rolled my eyes.

“You gave me a decade of your life to keep me alive.”

“Don’t expect any more. I doubt I could do it again.”

“It’s not the first time I’ve been shot you know.”

“Kaz. You would have died. And for what?” I stood up. “Are you so eager to find your Wraith that you would leave her son without a father?”

He was up so fast I almost lost my footing. “You have no right to talk about her.”

“No-“ I sat down. “No. Right.” I glared resentfully at him.

He glared back, stubborn as a mule.

Defeat turned to anger, and I dug my talons into the arm of the chair. “You know what? I’m done.” I leaned towards him. “You need to wake up, Kaz. Wake. Up. Inej has been gone for nearly ten years, and running down every man who insults her is not going to bring her back! I’m sorry, but it’s not!”

Kaz’s hand tightened on his cane.

“Maybe she’s still alive out there- I know you’ll never stop looking for her!”

“Of course I’ll never stop looking for her!” He sounded ragged.

I stood, advancing on him with a fury. “I see you, you know! How could I not? Every time you as much as hear a whisper of her name- a hint that you can find her again- you leave us! You leave me.” I forced my voice to remain steady. “Kaz, I never know if you’re coming back, because why the hell would you?”

His eyes turned to furious slits. “Don’t you ever say I would abandon my son!”

My anger cooled; I knew I had overstepped. “I misspoke,” I said tightly. “You would come back for Naj. Of course you would.”

We both considered each other wearily.

“But not you,” he concluded. “Or, that’s what you think.”

“Everyone leaves, Kaz. Expecting someone to come back is pointless, because they won’t.”

There was little to soften the bluntness of the truth.

Kaz sat down in the chair across from me. His gloved hand shifted over his cane as he took in my hollowed, grey-tinged skin; my dull, ordinary face. “I would come back for you,” was all he said. There was such intensity in those simple words; such steel. If I wasn’t Meiyu Han, the woman who had always been left, I might have believed him.

But I was, and my smile didn’t reach my eyes. “Men lie, even when they think they tell the truth.”

My husband’s gaze was calm as ever, save the slightest hint that what I said troubled him.

I raised my voice, steely. “Don’t count on me being there to save you next time.”

“I won’t, believe me.” He stretched his bad leg out, wincing. “Are you finished?”

“No.”

He grunted. “Of course you aren’t.”

“I want a guaranteed week off, twice a year,” I put my arms on my knees, “with pay.”

His expression was priceless. “Excuse me?”

“I’ve worked, almost always year round, for over eight years. I want two weeks of my life where I’m not being told to Curse every lowlife criminal within a thousand mile radius.”

“You get time off.”

“Well, not enough considering what I have to do around here!”

He made a derisive noise.

“Two weeks. Full pay.” I crossed my arms. “Plus a bonus for all my years of hard work. And I mean a real bonus- not some greasy Shu doughnut stolen off a street vendor.”

“I thought you liked those,” he said wryly.

I didn’t back down.

He sat back in surrender. “Fine.”

“Thank you,” I said smugly.

“Three percent.”

I gaped, deeply offended. “Ten!”

“Not on your life, Meiyu. Four.”

“Eight.”

“Five.”

“Seven, or you can go find yourself another Cursemaker to do your dirty work,” I growled.

“You know I don’t have and endless supply of money, don’t you?”

“I help balance your accounts, Kaz. You can afford it.”

“This is nothing short of robbery,” he grumbled.

“I’m not a pickpocket, I’m your wife!”

“Same thing.”

“Shut up. I saved your life. Now I want my money.”

He seemed to be grinding his molars to nothing. “Seven,” he relented.

I smirked happily.

“But I’m not going to keep bringing you doughnuts.”

My smirk fell flat. “Why not?”

“How old are you again?”

“Don’t be an ass, Kaz. I’m still waiting for a simple, ‘Thank you for saving my life’.”

We glared at each other.

Seconds ticked by.

“I’m still waiting.”

“Yes, I can see that.”

He drummed his fingers on the head of his cane.

I twisted my ring and stifled a yawn.

Saints we were an obstinate pair!

Kaz checked his watch. “How long are you going to keep this up?”

“As long as it takes to get a sincere thank you.”

“Sincerity is subjective.”

“Well, no one ever said you did ‘heart and roses,’ Kaz.” I was slowly starting to feel better.

His eyebrows hit his hairline. “Hearts and roses.” The expression creeping across his face was suspiciously close to a smile.

“Yes. Hearts and ro-“ I inhaled sharply. My heart plummeted with a sharp thud. Another strip of my hair shriveled, turning silver. I ran my fingers through it and swore as some of it came out.

“What’s happening?” All humor left his face.

“Aftershocks.” I grimaced. “I wasn’t very... prepared...when I healed you.”

“But you’re alright?”

“I don’t know.” The hair glinted in the light like fine silver wire. “The only other person I saw do Blood Healing died from the strain the next day.”

He didn’t speak.

I followed his line of vision and saw my reflection in the mirror. Stringy, limp hair streaked with silver. Slight creases in my face. It didn’t seem too out-of-the-ordinary. Then I saw the how dark rings circled my eyes, how my cheekbone seemed to jut out too sharply. I looked... brittle. Even my skin had a sallow, grayish tinge. I looked like the color had been leached out of me like a bleached bone.

I blew out the breath I’d been holding. “Saints. This is bad.”

“You're alive.”

“I’m alive, I just don’t know for how long.” I looked him dead in the eye. “If I die-“

“You are not going to die. Not today.”

I smiled a twisted smile. “Everyone dies, Kaz. Even me.”

“You are not going to die,” he repeated. He sounded absolutely furious.

“I wasn’t meant to live forever,” I pointed out. “None of us are.”

His hands were balled up in tight, unyielding fists.

It occurred to me that I might never feel those hands ungloved.

He would never let me tell him the whole truth, I concluded; perhaps one day, when we were less raw and more rested, I would tell him why we Cursemakers lived so loudly; why the greatest Cursemakers have always wished never to Curse at all.

Until that day came, though, I would not tell him.

I tilted my head and gazed at his fierce face. “Oh my love, I wish you could learn to let go of some of your anger. Life is too short, and I love you too much to see you throw yours away.” I spoke in An’Lin Shu so he wouldn’t understand what I said.

His voice was gravel. “What did you say?”

I looked down at his gloved hands and imagined that he was mine; that we were truly married. “Something foolish.”

Our eyes met, gold and brown.

He closed his mouth and looked away.

I walked over to the open window and leaned against the windowsill, breathing in the cool air that reminded me of freshly fallen rain. Calmness spread through me.

A crow quickly swooped down and began circling above us, waiting hopefully for crumbs I brought every Sunday. I searched the room and found a small bundle of stale breadcrumbs I had saved away, bringing them back with me.

She swept down from above, wings unfurled: a big, bold bird with feathers so dark purple and blue shone underneath.

I stared deep into its liquid eyes. “Hello, my dear,” I whispered in Suli. I looked over at Kaz, who stood rooted to the spot. “Isn’t she lovely?”

She ruffled its plumage, cawing.

I shook some crumbs across the sill for her, watching it gobble them up. Careful, I brushed the crumbs off on my skirt and sat on the ledge next to her.

Wings extended, she hopped over, cocking her head as she searched me for more.

I held my hands open, chuckling as she poked my palm for stray crumbs.

She almost seemed to shrug, craning her neck for a quick preen. With a whoosh of feathers, she leapt off the ledge and flew away to join the others.

Even after all this time, they still came back. It was sad and magical.

I craned my neck up and watched her soar against the dull blue sky. “I’m taking care of them for her,” I told him. “So that when she comes back, they’ll be there for her.”

He watched her with me. “She’s not coming back.” The finality of the tone surprised me.

“You’ve never given up before. Why start now?”

“She’s not going to come back!” He exploded, and I paled. “She’s never going to come back! Not now, not ever! So just…stop.” His face was furious and so, so lost.

“Kaz.” I began to reach out for him, frowning as he braced himself from my touch. I pulled my hand away, dropping it in my lap. “What makes you think she’s dead?” I asked quietly. No pity. Just question.

“If she was still alive, I would have found her. Or she would have tried to come back.”

Both seemed true. After all, this was Inej Ghafa: the Wraith. It would take a lot to make her disappear. From what I’d hear from the other crows, her disappearance was…strange. Very strange.

A dark thought bloomed in my mind, and it shone with the power of a thousand suns. “Kaz…” I said carefully. “Have you ever considered she was Cursed?”

He went still as death.

“You have a lot of enemies, and I’m not the only Cursemaker out there. Revenge is worth more than a mountain of gold to some.” I swallowed as I stared at his bloodless face. “And what better revenge would there be for you, then one that targeted her?”

“Don’t.”

“No, listen! I-” I peered at him shrewdly. “I don’t think she’s dead.” I got to my feet and started to pace. “Think about it: the storm that overtook her ship wasn’t just bad- it was a hurricane. A hurricane, in the middle of the Northern True Sea, that only targeted her fleet. It was anything but natural.”

“You’re grasping at straws, Meiyu. It could have been a Squaller.”

“No. I don’t think so.” I closed my eyes, seeing the event unfold in front of me. “After the storm cleared, you said they found the ship, but not her. Yet how is it, that no one- not even her crew- knew what happened to her.” I twisted the magic in my fingers like twine. “Why?”

He didn’t answer.

“It’s odd, but more than that- it’s wrong: the storm, the way it developed so fast, the holes in the story- it’s like everyone just-“ I snapped my fingers- “forgot.” I curled my fingers watching the magic coil through them like an old friend as I voiced my thoughts. Thoughts began cropping up one after another, stringing themselves together to paint an ugly picture. “Do you have something of hers? Something she touched- or used- often?”

Kaz seemed to get paler and paler the longer I spoke. “I’ve been over this a thousand times, Meiyu. Let it go.”

“Kaz, do you want to know or not?” My voice was forceful.

The words seemed to echo. Whisper.

Do you want to know?

He swallowed. “I have one of her knives.”

“Where?”

Slowly, as if it was physically painful, he reached into his coat and drew out an elegant, curved dagger.

He held it next to his heart.

Like her.

I held out my hand. “Please.” I tried to be as sensitive as possible.

He turned it over to me, eyes riveted on it.

I reached out and gingerly grasped the bone handle, unsheathing it in a single fluid motion. Magic flowed from my fingers, caressing it, wreathing it in a glowing smoke.

“Sing me your song,” I commanded in the language of Cursing.

The blade flared with light, and it sang.

I bent my head over it and closed my eyes, listening to the memories. The song of Inej Ghafa was fierce and sad. Beautiful. “Santka Alina,” I whispered.

Kaz looked like I had taken the blade and tore open his belly.

I passed my hand over it, never opening my eyes. Straining to hear the chords of music.

I froze.

There.

Another song was there, whispering to me.

But this song wasn’t beautiful.

It was like the thinnest layer of oil over water: sullying it.

The song stopped as it felt my magic brush over it.

It welcomed my touch as… kin.

 _You and I,_ it sang, _we are the same._

 _Yes,_ I answered. _Tell me: what is your song?_

 _Cursed is she that has held this blade,_ it hissed. _Let this Wraith never return home._

My eyes flew open.

A buzzing filled my head as I stared down at the blade in my hand.

The blade that was touched by Cursemaker power.

YuYan’s.

That’s when I made my decision: I swallowed my secrets and pushed them deep inside myself, locking them away where no one would ever find them again. She was dead; they would bring us nothing but hurt; it was done. “There is another Cursemaker’s mark on this.”

He looked faintly sick. “What?”

“It’s old, but it’s there.” I sheathed the blade with a sharp snap. “She was Cursed, Kaz.”

He had the look of someone who’d had the ground collapse from under them.

“She was Cursed to never return home.” I began to speak, and I saw how each of my words drove through my husband like red-hot spikes. “She drew the eye of every slaver in from here to Zemeni. They must have paid a king’s ransom to send her-”

“Enough!” His roar shocked me out of my reverie.

I opened my mouth. “But-“

He advanced on me so fast I was backed into the wall. “Enough.” His chest heaved, teeth bared, hair disheveled. There was something feral in his eyes. Over a decade of hurt and grief and fury churning so deep I could have drowned in it.

“If you just-“

I flinched as his cane slammed against the wall so hard it rattled the lamp on the desk.

The cane didn’t move. He boxed me in- trapped me. Those shark’s eyes seared into mine, and for the first time in my life, I was well and truly afraid of him. “You did this.” There was nothing but hate in his voice. “You and all your kind.”

My mouth opened and closed. “It wasn’t me,” was all I could manage.

He snarled like a wounded animal, shoving himself away. “Leave me alone, Cursemaker.” The name was ground to meal and spat out like poison.

“Stop! Please!” My hand shot out, grabbing a handful of his coat so I could pull him back- apologize- Saints, make him listen.

In a flash, he had me pinned against the wall by my bad wrist.

My mind went blank with shock as I felt the bones grind against each other painfully.

Not again not again not again.

“Touch me again, and you’ll regret it.” His voice was colder than the Fjerdan steppes and just as barren. There was not one drop of mercy; not one shred of friendship or familiarity. How far had I pushed before he had finally snapped?

My whisper was brittle. “Kaz, please-“

“Don’t test me, Cursemaker.”

I swallowed hard and willed my fear to twist into something ugly, something unforgiving. Reckless and out of options, I forced my wrist up in full view of his stony face. “Go on,” I said quietly. “Break it. Be the monster everyone sees.”

And just like that, that icy fire was snuffed out in one blow.

He let go immediately.

I yanked my throbbing wrist to my side. “I didn’t Curse Inej: my cousin did.” My hands shook, so I balled them into fists. “I swear on the blood of my brother, I didn’t know she…” My words failed me, then. They floundered. What had she done? What had I done?

His eyes cleared. “Meiyu-”

He made as if to move towards me, and before I knew I what I was doing, my knife was out and digging into the soft skin of his neck. “Touch me again, and you die.”

He blinked.

I think my words shocked us both.

A line of blood beaded along the blade

“I-“

“-Why do you always do this?” I cut him off, nearly begging. “Why?”

If I knew any better, I’d say he looked ashamed. “I’m sorry, Meiyu.”

“Sorry?” I demanded. Disgusted by my weakness, I took a step back and strode away.

His face drained of the little color it had. “So you’re leaving?”

“Yes.”

“If that’s what you want.” It seemed to take every ounce of control he had to say those words. His eyes tracked my movements like it was the last time he’d ever see me. “Will you come back?”

I had no answer, because I didn’t know.

He had hurt me, and through YuYan, I had hurt him.

They were the kind of hurts that could never be undone.

So when I walked through the door, I did not look back.

…

Naj was running errands with Nina for the day, so I made sure to avoid her house. I didn’t want to meet them like this. Really, I spent the next two hours wandering Ketterdam, my foul mood swinging between misery and rage.

Katterdam didn’t have much in the line of entertainment- that’s for sure. There were a handful of bars, some greasy restaurants, and the occasional drunken brawl over some frivolous argument in the streets. They might have been amusing any other time, but now, it was sickening to watch.

I gave up and dropped by the merchant section on the East Side to visit Wylan and Jesper.

The opulent door of the Van Eck mansion loomed above me.

I knocked once. Twice.

No answer.

“Wylan! Jesper!” I called. “I know you’re both in there.”

Silence.

And then a faint thud- like someone had tripped over something far away from the door.

I heard Jesper’s sultry laugh. Mumbled words.

Footsteps clattered in the background, growing louder.

There was a muffled fumbling of the door handle, low cursing, and the rustling of clothes.

I had a pretty good idea about what they had been doing.

The door popped open a crack, and a tousled head appeared through the crack, accompanied by a flushed face. “Meiyu!”

The pain in my chest lessened a degree. I crossed my arms. “Hello Wylan.” Time for the mask, I thought. My lips turned up, and I smirked at his disheveled appearance as my eyes zeroed in on the redden bites around his pale neck. “Enjoying yourselves?” I flicked my eyes back to his, teasing.

His hand leapt to the spot, face turning from pink to a deep maroon. “Um…” He tried and failed to adjust his shirt to cover the bruises.

“Yes!” came Jesper’s cheerful reply.

Wylan moaned, burying his face in his hands.

He popped up behind Wylan to throw his arm around his love, and I saw with amusement that his clothes had been thrown on so haphazardly they were inches away from sliding off. “We’ve had a very productive day.”

“Please stop talking,” Wylan begged.

I was unimpressed. “For Saint’s sake, Jesper- put some clothes on! You’re blinding everyone on the street.”

He shrugged, buttoning up his rumpled shirt. “What? I’m decent.”

“Barely,” I snorted.

Jesper winked roguishly. “Keep pretending I’m not eyecandy.”

Eyecandy? I repeated in my head. Saints preserve me…I fought to keep my face straight. “I thought you two were ‘filing taxes’.” My smirked widened the tiniest bit at Wylan’s deepening blush. “Or is that just what you two call it.”

Jesper grinned like a cat with a mouse. “You could say that.”

Wylan looked like he wanted to melt into the ground.

Jesper prodded Wylan with his elbow. “Hey, Merchling! Meiyu came all this way to visit us. Aren’t you going to say anything?”

“I think I should just crawl in a hole and die,” he mumbled, eyes glued to the ground.

“Aw, come on, Merchling-“

Wylan cut him off with a scowl, still blushing. “Stop calling me ‘Merchling’! You know how much I hate it.”

“That’s exactly why I do it, Wylan, darling.” Jesper wrapped his hand around Wylan’s neck and leaned in for a kiss.

Wylan, much to my surprise, did not accept the kiss, and instead shoved Jesper so hard he toppled over and out of sight with a surprised yell.

“Masterfully done,” I told him.

He grinned, winded but pleased. “Thank you.”

Resilient as ever, Jesper hauled himself back upright, laughing. “Phew! I didn’t think you had it in you, Wy!”

I shook my head at him. “You’re impossible, Jesper.”

“Thank you,” he said happily. “It’s a gift.”

I rolled my eyes.

He wrapped his hand around Wylan’s shoulder, squeezing it tightly. “I’m forgiven, right?”

He glowered up at him. “No.”

Jesper laughed. “Come on, Wy. Don’t be angry.” Then his laugh turned wicked. “You know what? Never mind. You angry wouldn’t be such a bad thing for what we were going to do…” he said suggestively.

The little scandalized noise that came out of Wylan was nothing short of pathetic.

I made a sound of disgust. “Jesper Llewellyn Fahey, if I knew you were going to be like this, I would have brought a bag.”

He looked confused. “Why a bag?”

I slapped him upside the head, and he yelped. “To vomit into!” I exclaimed.

Jesper’s mouth fell open, rubbing the small hurt. “I can’t believe you did that!” he spluttered in disbelief. “My Ma used a spoon,” he added, bemused.

Wylan looked delighted. “I wish you could see your face. It’s priceless.”

I brushed my hands off, exasperated. “Sweet Ghezen, Jesper- can you be any more disgusting?” I sputtered. “I swear- your mind is so dirty- I need to take a bath just from being around it!”

He rubbed the back of his neck, slightly sheepish now. “Sorry.”

Wylan smirked, but it was filled with affection. “You deserved it, Jes.” Thank you, he mouthed to me.

I raised my eyebrows. “Watching you is like watching my baby brother kiss someone with tongue. I’d rather not.”

“I remember you saying you had a brother!” he said.

I smiled, the ever-present pain only a twinge now. “He was a nuisance at times.” I glanced at Jesper. “But now, I see that no one is quite as annoying as you.”

Wylan stifled a snort.

“I am a rarity,” he agreed airily.

“Really?” I examined my nails, feigning disinterest. “I thought your father said you were an experiment gone wrong.”

Wylan just about died from laughter.

Jesper put a hand to his heart and knelt down on one knee, clasping my hand with his like some chivalrous gentleman wooing his lady. “Meiyu Han Brekker, that is the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” he declared loftily.

Fondly, I put my hand over his. “You’re a fool, Jesper Fahey,” I told him with affection.

He inclined his head in a modest bow. “Thank you.” He straightening up to peer down at me, hands shoved in his pockets. “You know, I can imagine you as a big sister!” His face turned piteous and grave. “You have a very mean slap.”

I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing. “I took care of him when my mother couldn’t. He hated it.”

“I bet.” Jesper smiled at me, teasing. “Ghezen, you must have been terrifying!”

My smile evaporated. “I’m a Cursemaker, Jesper. Everyone was afraid of me.” It was supposed to be a joke, but it came out all wrong. Too sad.

Awkwardness settled over us like a wet blanket.

This time it was Wylan who jabbed Jesper in the side with his elbow. “Sorry for this.” He jerked his head at Jesper, who arranged his face into the picture of innocence. “Come in! Please. You’re just in time for lunch!”

“Fresh enjira, spicy dorowot! -“ Jesper gushed. “It’s heavenl-“

“I can’t.”

“Oh.”

“No. I…” I forced myself to smile at his dampened enthusiasm. “I’d love to, really, but I have some things to do back home…and I can see you’re busy.” I stepped down away from them, preparing to flee, and inclined my head politely. “I’m sorry I disturbed you.”

“Where’s Kaz?” Jesper asked innocently. “I thought you two were working on something together this morning.”

My easy, smiling mask cracked like an eggshell against a rock. “He’s…”

They waited.

All the excuses I had amasses clogged my throat. Kaz. No, I pleaded. Not that. I didn’t want to think about why I was here. I couldn’t. Because if I did… Some ugly emotion roiled in my gut, and for a split second, I had the most ridiculous urge to cry.

Jesper’s smile fell away. “Meiyu? What’s wrong?”

I began backing away, shaking my head. “Nothing,” I laughed. It sounded strained and much too loud. “I just came to…” I waved my hand flippantly. “It’s nothing. Just… taking a walk, and wanted to say hello!”

Wylan began to step towards me, and I bolted.

I hurried away, blocking out their concerned calls. “Just taking a walk,” I repeated as I wove down the street. I laughed under my breath, the sound verging on hysterical.

My vision blurred.

Before I knew it, I found myself standing on the docks that extended out into the sea.

Alone at last.

I lowered myself down with a sigh, kicking my shoes off to dip my feet in the water. I knew no one would approach me- they’d be dead a dozen different ways if they tried.

I watched the waves and took some quality time to marinate in my self-pity.

A stray fly began orbiting my head, buzzing obnoxiously.

I scowled up at it.

I snatched it out of the air in and crushed it in one brutal swipe. “Stupid creature.” I flicked it off my palm, watching it bob in the water.

My anger dissipated, and I slumped in defeat. I spared a glance up at the clouds overhead. “Saints I’m a mess.” I murmured in An’Lin Shu.

The Dock swayed in a soothing rhythm.

“I left my husband.” I grimaced. “Again

My blunt words skipped over the water and sank into the waves.

“Sorry,” I sighed. “You probably have better things to do than listen to me moan about my failed love life.”

I glowered at my wedding ring, resisting the urge to hurl it into the water.

“I really do have terrible taste in men,” I grumbled. “Fuck.”

I could almost hear his laughter.

My throat ached at the memory.

“I don’t know what to do.” I craned my neck to squint at the clouds, now wreathed in sun. They drifted along, silent. “I don’t know how to spend my life loving someone who will never love me back.”

A breeze caressed my cheek like the brush of a hand.

“If I was a strong person, I would have fought for more,” I told him. “But I’m not very strong, am I?”

Suddenly, hot shame flooded through me.

“Please, don’t think badly of me.” My voice broke. A few tears spilled over my eyelids, and I wiped them away. “I’ve done my best.”

The clouds moved just enough to wrap me in a blanket of buttery sunlight.

I closed my eyes, letting my scales unfurl up my arms to soak in the heat. “Thank you, Love. It’s always so cold here.”

The waves lapped at my feet, folding over one another.

“There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t miss you.”

The clouds shifted another inch, and the darkness slid back over me.

I went back to watching the water, thoroughly depressed.

“Meiyu?”

I leapt to my feet, magic wrapped around my hands like brass knuckles as I whirled around to see- “Wylan? What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?” He gestured to the dark brown water licking its way up the sides of the dock. “Do you know how filthy that water is?”

I huffed. “I came from a dirt-poor village in the mountains, Wylan. Water is water.” I plopped down and went back to swishing my feet through the water like a child. “It’s not so bad, really.”

He sat down next to me, his eyes far too kind. “Meiyu. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, Wylan.” I knew my eyes were red from crying.

“You look terrible.”

I stopped and glared at him.

He backtracked immediately. “I just meant-“

“I left Kaz, Wylan.” There. I said it. I looked over at him. “We fought, and I left him.”

He looked struck dumb. “Oh.”

I nodded in agreement.

“For…good?”

I gave him a sour look, and he held up his hands. “I’m sorry, it’s just…what in Saint’s name happened?”

“Well, he got shot.”

Wylan went white. “Kaz is dead?”

I rolled my eyes, annoyed. “No!”

He relaxed. “Ghezen. You scared me there.”

“He’s alright now. I healed him.” I steeled myself. “I think Inej might still be alive.”

His mouth fell open. “What?”

“She was Cursed, Wylan. I found traces of another Cursemaker’s magic that led right back to her.” My eyes hardened. “And I think I can find a way to reverse it.”

“How did you?...” He shook his lead, utterly stumped. “We’ve been wondering what happened to her for years. We thought she died.”

“Cursed, but very much alive.” I raised an eyebrow at his shocked face. “Every Cursemaker’s magic leaves traces. They’re like fingerprints: similar, but very distinctive.”

“You’re sure this is what it is.”

“Positive.” I felt shame well within me. “Inej has been Cursed, Wylan.”

“I…” he blew out a breath, and a splitting grin spread across his face. “Ghezen, Meiyu. This sounds impossible, but…I believe you.”

“Saints, I would never lie about something like this!” I snapped. “I’m not a monster!”

“I never thought you were.” He said simply.

My heart warmed a few degrees.

He paused, troubled. “I’d be lying if I didn’t want Inej to come back to us, but… I know what it means for you.”

“What would I be if I left her to rot?” My back ached, and I stretched my arms above my head, sighing blithely. “No, life’s a show, Wylan, and I’m a cheap shadow of the real thing. But if that’s the role I must play, then so be it.”

A shadow passed over his face. “Do you really believe that?” He was so earnest- this man. So impossibly innocent.

I shook my head at him, my smile wry. “Wylan.”

Hesitant, he returned my smile. “What?”

I snorted, “You’re a man. Need I say more?”

He looked mildly affronted. “I think I’m a relatively decent human being.”

Affection bubbled up in me, and I leaned over and pecked him on the cheek like I would a brother. “You’re more than decent, Wylan- you’re one of the best! And that’s the truth.”

I smiled at him, and he flushed.

My smile turned teasing. “You’re a man who’s not only incredibly smart and kind, but also sweet. And you listen more than you talk!” I nodded sagely. “Women like that.” I thought of Jesper and how head over heels in love he was. “So do men, it seems.”

He eyed me with confusion, fighting down a blush. “Thank you?”

“Let’s just say: if you want to get anywhere in this world as a woman, you better have something to offer that men will take.” I smirked at him as I settled back down. “Life’s a show, and women are rarely ever more than props to be shuffled around.”

There was no judgment when he asked, “What do you mean?”

I turned serious. “Ketterdam is an unforgiving place for any man, but for a woman?” I shook my head. “Once, my whole life- my whole world- was controlled by men who (forgive me for my bluntness) saw women as little more than walking, talking cunts.”

His face flickered at the vulgar word.

The iron band was heavy as a conscience on my left hand.

“Men may hold the power, but once you’ve seen the greatest of them with their trousers down, you’ll learn they aren’t so great,” I said blandly.

The shyness had fallen away from my friend’s face. “I’m sorry that it’s been that way for you.”

“That’s just the way things are, Wylan.” I sat back. “I may have married the, ah, ‘dark broody type’, but Kaz,” I flicked a stray hair from my fingers, “Kaz beats them all.”

“He really is the dark broody type,” Wylan muttered.

“Sometimes, I really hate that man.” I rubbed my hands over my face and growled. Anger flared up in me, then, and I picked up my shoe and hurled it with all my strength with a yell.

Wylan jumped.

My shoe landed with a tremendous splash.

It floated for an instant before sinking like a rock in a cascade of bubbles.

Wylan watched the ripples spread, face neutral. “That was…”

“Sorry.” I sat back down. “I just had to throw something.”

He shrugged. “I understand.”

I quickly sent a string of my magic into the water and reeled my shoe back in, fishing it out of the water and tipping it over the dock. Water trickled out in an obnoxiously long stream until there was nothing left.

“I feel like that defeats the point of throwing it,” he pointed out, voice wobbling with mirth.

I grunted. A silver glint caught my eye, and I peered inside. “What in the world?...” I grimaced when I saw what it was. “Ai…” I turned the shoe over and shook it, hard.

A tiny minnow fell out and landed in the water with a plop.

“Disgusting…” I muttered.

Wylan looked on the verge of laughing.

“What?” I said defensively. “I like these shoes!”

He raised his hands. “Alright, alright.” He coughed, and it sounded a lot like a laugh.

I shook the leather a few more times- just to be sure- and turned it upside down to dry. “I really do like these shoes,” I said, slightly sheepishly. “They’re new.”

Eyes twinkling, he only nodded. “I won’t tell a soul.”

I shook the water from my hands and wiped them on my shirt.

“Are you alright, Meiyu?”

My laugh was brittle. “Oh, I will be.”

He watched me carefully. “Do you want to end it?”

“Yes.” I smiled tightly. “And no.”

Pensive, he nodded, deep in thought. “You say life is a show. Well, then I’d say you came into a show that had been going on for a long time.”

“How so?” I asked lifelessly.

He looked out towards the water, trying to find the words. “Even with Inej, Kaz was…guarded,” he began. “It took a lot for them to even admit they cared for one another.” He nudged me. “You know, you and Inej were very much alike.”

I scoffed, but he raised a hand. “No, you were. Did you know, she was an acrobat?”

I shook my head, surprised.

“The Ghafa family is Suli to their bones. They were performers, first and foremost. Slavers kidnapped Inej when she was fourteen. Her parents were frantic. When they found her, they were overjoyed.”

I felt a rawness rise in me, which I promptly hid behind my porcelain mask. “They didn’t care that she was a prostitute?”

His voice was soft. “They were just happy that their daughter was alive.”

Inej’s parents loved her, I thought for the millionth time.

It made my chest feel like it was caving in.

Wylan saw this, and went silent. His eyes were those of an old soul. I followed his line of sight; the old hurt rattling around in me like hard, cold pebbles.

“How good it would be,” I whispered, “if family was more important than honor.”

He nodded in agreement.

“So…Kaz and Inej were very close?”

“Not at first.” He said. “On the outside, they both kept to themselves- very private people. We didn’t even know they were-”

“Yes, I imagine so,” I said stiffly. “Go on.” I refused to look at him, stomach roiling while sour jealously strangled me.

“Naj was…a surprise. To all of us. They were…well, Kaz won’t ever admit to it, but he was petrified. But they were happy.”

I chuckled. “That sounds pretty normal.”

He smiled. “Sometimes, I forget you had children.”

Some deep sorrow overtook me. “The first time I was with child, I was fourteen.”

His smile dissolved. “It destroyed him, you know. Losing her.” He shook his head. “He lost her, and then there he was: Dirtyhands, Bastard of the Barrel, left to raise a child without his mother. I think…I think, when he met you, he knew you’d be good for his son, because you loved your children so much.”

“Don’t lie, Wylan.” Now, I was bitter. “He chose me, because he would have done anything to have something like me.” My mouth twisted with the cruel irony. “Even marry me.”

We sat side-by-side, still as stone.

“I was twelve when my husband first saw me,” I finally said. “He saw me, he wanted me, and my father promised that I would be given to him once I turned thirteen.”

Wylan looked over. “Given?”

I arranged my words carefully. “My husband was a butcher- he made a good living- and he gave my father a pig for my hand. I couldn’t afford to say no. So we married.”

Silence fell upon him once more.

“Men like him: they’re children, Wylan: little boys who want a beautiful wife like a child wants a toy.” I held my bad wrist up, examining the slight crookedness. “Oh, they’re happy enough- once they’re given what they want. They think owning the toy will somehow make them happy. But it doesn’t. You see: toys aren’t as fun once you break them. They become horribly bored, these boys: they didn’t get what they wanted, they weren’t loved the way they needed- it’s always someone else’s fault. So they stomp their feet, and howl, and smash their toys to bits, and then they find a new one to play with. And so it goes. On and on. Year after year.”

“You should have left him earlier.” He said it so quietly, so fiercely, my heart clenched.

I glanced at him. Then down to my slender, unbroken, ugly feet. “I wanted to leave,” I admitted. “I thought about it every day for years.” I wrapped my arms around my legs, face drawn. “But every time I took a step out of the door, I choked.”

His eyes were dark with memories. “I understand. Truly.”

I kept my eyes on the horizon. “I came very close to believing everything he did was my fault. That, somehow, I deserved it. What I didn’t see was… it wasn’t me.”

His eyes remained fixed on me.

I forced a laugh. “I know, I know. I was very stupid.”

“No,” he growled. “Not stupid. You were a child, Meiyu.”

I had never heard him so angry.

His eyes went back to the water. “My father hated me more than any other person. I could never understand why. I thought he loved me, and later, I would have done anything to make him proud of me. Anything.” He looked down and sighed, weighed down my some old grief. “But it turns out that having a son who can’t read or write and prefers men over women means I was worthless. Replaceable. He locked my mother away for years in an asylum because he didn’t want her. He married a girl practically the same age as me so he could have another son. A real one.”

My heart broke for him. “Wylan…”

“He tried to kill me- erase me- like I never existed.” His voice had died to a whisper. “I was utterly worthless to him.”

I touched his shoulder. “…it sounds like something inside him was broken. Broken so badly that it could never be fixed.” I took his hand in mine.

He nodded wearily.

“You’re so good, Wylan: so smart, and so unbelievably kind.” I rested my head on his shoulder. “He had no idea what he had.”

His head rested against mine. “Neither did he.”

I looked at my bad wrist again: the one he shattered all those years ago as punishment. “It took me a long time to see that he was cruel. I believed him when he said I deserved it.” My eyes watered, but my voice turned icy. “Whenever he hurt me, he would say, ‘I’m doing this, because I love you,” I whispered. I hated the tremor that stole into my voice. Hated it because the weakness was still there, after all those years. “But that… isn’t love, is it?”

“No.” His face was hard as granite, and out of the blue he wrapped his arms around me in a tight hug. “It’s not even close.”

I stiffened, but gradually hugged him back, my chin nestled in his shoulder. “I know.”

“I’m sorry.” He said again, this time fierce.

I pulled back. “Don’t be,” I said lightly. “Abusive relationships are my forte.”

His head snapped back to me. “Has Kaz hit you?” he asked, looking downright furious.

I winced. “Not exactly.”

His eyes burned. “We’re going to kick his ass for that.”

“Everyone takes there turn I guess.”

He grimaced at that. “He slammed me into a wall and threatened to cut my tongue out after I questioned him once.”

I snorted and glared out over the water. “If words were bullets, Kaz would be a gun shot by Jesper.”

Wylan sighed. “That sounds about right.”

I whirled on him. “Why do you put up with it?”

“We’re all broken in some way. Not many people understand that- or accept it.”

I was disgusted by myself. “I promised myself that if he raised his hand against me again, I’d kill him, and never come back. But I can’t.”

“Because of Naj?”

“Yes.” I dug my nails into my palms. “But it’s more than that.”

His eyes were sad. “Kaz?”

I balled my fists. “Kaz Brekker is a cold, cruel, heartless, rude, emotionally-crippled sociopath who’s maddeningly smart and offensively rich.”

“Oh, he’s all of that, and more,” Wylan agreed. “But you love him, don’t you?”

I scowled. Turned my attention to my skirt. Picked at a stray thread. “Of course I love him,” I finally grumbled. “I’m a sick, sick woman.”

Wylan’s lips twitched up. “Meiyu-“

I slapped my hand down onto the docks. “-No. No. He’s an ingrate, and a liar, and his way of dealing with grief is to pretend it doesn’t exist. Or, when he finally does acknowledge it, he vomits it up on everyone else so they can feel as miserable as he does-”

His voice was as gentle as him. “You must love him a lot.”

My rant died on my lips. “I know I do.” The knowledge scared me more than I could say. “Because no one in my life has had the power to hurt me so much. Until him.”

His smile evaporated.

“Pathetic, isn’t it?” I grumbled. “Saints, if my mother could see me now, she’d spit on me from Heaven. So would my father.” I barked out a laugh. “They both said I would be lucky to have anyone want me for anything.”

He watched me, solemn. “That’s a bald faced lie.”

“But it’s not.” Everyone wanted me for something that I had: my power, my name, my body; but no one had ever wanted me for what I was. Not really. I tucked my feet back into my shoes and brushed my self-pity away like cobwebs from a corner. “I’ll be fine, Wylan. Don’t worry.”

“But you’re not fine,” he said simply.

I shook my head. There it was again. That simple kindness. I wondered how he’d managed to hold onto it in a world like this. So I squeezed his hand and pretended not to hear.

He gripped my hand in his. “I know I’m no expert, but I know he loves you,” he told me fiercely. “More than he realizes.”

I pulled my hand from his. “If this is how he loves, then I do not want it.” I stood up and kissed him on the cheek, and he returned it.

“Will you be alright?”

I waved him off. “Yes, yes.” I snapped my fingers, and a spark of my magic leapt off my hand, floating through the air until it landed on Wylan. “For the walk home.”

The spark lengthened and grew, curling around his arm like a friendly snake. It glowed with a pale golden light: a wisp of my magic to keep him safe.

He touched it gingerly. “Thank you.”

I turned around and continued walking, letting my feet carry me back home. “Tell Jesper I’d like to have lunch with you- if the offer still stands,” I said over my shoulder.

I could hear him smile from here. “It does.”

“Good.” I smoothed my veil out as I went. “Safe travels, Wylan.”

“Goodbye, Meiyu.” I could feel his eyes follow me until I was lost from sight.

I walked down the docks, feet thumping against the rocking wood; the sun was low in the sky, and the few people who I saw milling about the streets took one look at my tiger-eyes and avoided me like the plague. Wood turned to stone as I made my way back to the darkened alleys. Back to the shady streets and boarded windows of the apartment.

Back home.

I lifted my hands, lowering the wards I had created in one soft stroke.

The door was flung open, and I came face to face with my husband.

My broken, grieving husband, who housed such cruelty in his heart.

“Well?” I said curtly.

“You came back,” was all he managed. He held himself off his bad leg. There were dark circles under his eyes, and for a split second, he looked absolutely, impossibly, relieved.

I kept my face frosty as my voice. “Don’t think I did this for you.”

His fingers went tight on the head of his cane, and I stalked past him.

A hand stopped me gently. He looked down at me with the face he used only when he was backed against a wall, fighting. “Stay.”

My bared my teeth. “Let go.”

His hand lifted immediately.

I stepped around him marched down the hall to my room, closing the door with a snap. I sank onto my bed with a muffled groan. Every cell of every part of my body ached.

The door creaked open, and Kaz stepped through, closing it gently behind me.

Scowling, I glared in his direction. “Leave, before I shoot you myself.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

I unraveled my hair and shook it loose. “Is Naj asleep?” I asked shortly.

“Hopefully.”

“Does he know what happened?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

The silence was thick and uncomfortable as a wool sweater in summer.

“I didn’t think you’d come back.”

“I didn’t either,” I said bluntly. “But I can’t leave him.”

“I know.” His next words were sand instead of rough gravel. “You would do anything for his happiness. Even if it means you’re destroyed in the process.”

I refused to look his way as I lit the lamp.

The small flame rose and fell and wavered.

I stood up and faced him. I looked him dead in the eye and made my words cutting as a knife’s blade. “It’s obvious that this marriage has gone on long enough. We should either have it annulled, now, or, we stay together-for Naj’s sake.”

Words failed Dirtyhands.

“I don’t want to leave him, but if this is how it’s going to be, I surrender.” I pulled my ring off. “Your move.” I pushed it towards him and crossed my arms, stone-faced.

An ultimatum.

He nodded sharply, even as he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from the ring. His hand left its place on his cane to remove his glove, and the ring underneath.

The fingers hovered over the iron band and began sliding it off.

Something inside me fell to my feet and shattered.

He couldn’t even manage to look me in the eye.

I watched him, feeling hollowed out.

His eyes darted to mine, then down to the ring.

The hand fell away.

“We stay together.”

I dug my fingers into my arm. I couldn’t find the words to answer.

He slid his ring back on and tugged his glove back into place. “I want for us to stay together.”

I nodded once.

Kaz didn’t move.

There wasn’t much else to say. Among ourselves, it was an accepted fact that my husband and I were terrible at being married: the husband was irreversibly in love with a woman who was gone- but very much alive- and the wife was made perpetually aware of it.

For normal people, such a situation was riddled with problems. For us, it was a disaster, and we both knew it. (We just pretended we could find a way around it.)

Tonight, however, I was done, so instead of waiting for him to speak, I turned my back on him and blew the candle out to plunge us both into blessed darkness. I knew he could see my eyes, and I made sure they spoke a hundred words for every one of mine. “Goodnight, Kaz.”

His silhouette lingered in the doorway before finally retreating.

The door closed with a snap, and I stared at the velvet black until the black turned to grey, and the grey became the wood slats above my head, heralding dawn.

And thus followed a week of loaded silences, terse words, and time spent as far away from each other as possible. Cowards, the both of us: cowards and fools, with enough pride and stubbornness between us to choke a whale.

“Here’s the job for today,” he said on the first day.

“I’ll take care of it,” I replied.

“I made dinner,” I told him on the second day.

“Thank you,” he replied.

“Naj and I are going out,” he said on the third day.

“Alright,” I replied.

“I have to go,” he informed me on the fourth day, and by then, I had begun to lose some of my anger; I wished for life to return to its comforting routine.

Kaz, too, seemed less standoffish than usual, and his expression was more tired than dismissive whenever we exchanged the barest of words.

So I asked, “Will you be back?” and I meant, Will you come back?

“Yes.”

“When?”

“I’ll only be gone a few days.”

I jerked my head in affirmation. “Be safe.”

He looked as if he might speak, but I suspect that bull-headed pride won out, for he left without one word of goodbye, sharp and abrupt as ever.

While my husband and I were having out silent siege against the walls of each other’s heart, our son couldn’t seem to know which side he should be on; in the end, he wisely opted for no side, and spent as much time as possible outside the house doing Ghezen knows what. I knew Wylan and Jesper had their eyes on him, but trying to keep a boy out of trouble in Ketterdam was like trying to keep a flea from jumping: you can’t.

The only time Kaz and I managed to form a united front that week was in our mutual scolding of Naj, who was becoming more restless and wayward than ever.

I suppose our shared love for the boy was the main reason we stayed together so long- that, and we were both up to our ears in misguided loyalty.

It would be our downfall. 


	27. The Hunt

“Why can’t we just buy some meat from the butchers?” Naj grumbled, eyeing the bloody scraps we’d gotten from the butchers with distaste. 

“That robber?! Who knows where he gets his meat!” I exclaimed, twisting around to grab my knife. “When I was a girl, we knew where our food came from: fish, birds, pork- we slaughtered them ourselves. Everything was fresh; nothing went to waste- not even the blood. Gonggong liked…what was it- balkinbrij?- well, we’d call blood pudding-“

“Blood…pudding?-“

“- it’s blood mixed with spice and fillers until it’s thickened and crammed into sausage skins; apparently it was a something he ate a lot growing up.” 

“That sounds disgusting.” 

“Yes, well, blood is full of goodness...” I eyed him with amusement and held up the tin bucket. “Care to try it? 

“No.”

“You might like it.” 

Naj rolled his eyes. “Fine,” he grunted, swiping the bucket from me with little enthusiasm. 

“Here.” I held my knife out to him and looked at him, eye to eye. “Taking a life should never be easy. You’ll never be prepared, but at least you’ll know how it feels.” (Naj was getting older; now, more than ever, I wanted him to learn that now before it all became second nature to him.)

“Ghezen, I’m not a pansy,” he grumbled, taking it from me.

“Never said you were.” I slipped my shoes off and set them aside. “Whatever I catch will still be alive. Cut its throat, and be quick about it.” 

He eyed me skeptically. “Why can’t we just shoot it?”

“Do you want to scare off all the game?” I said wryly. 

“Won’t a dragon do that?”

“Not if I’m careful,” I said, cracking my stiff joints for the hunt; it’d been months since I had gone on a proper hunt, and I was itching to feel the thrill of the chase coursing through me. By the time I stepped out into woods, the sun had disappeared behind the horizon, and the cast shadows of the trees were a dark purplish-grey that bled into gauzy black.

Dusk: when deer emerged and dragons disappeared. 

Granted, it had been a long time since I had hunted like this, but with my scent cloaked and the colors of fall, even the gold of my scales blended in as I belly-crawled my way through the waving mass of grass, letting the hiss and crackle of the seeds mask the dry sound of my scales. The world sighed around me as a breeze blew past, and the rich smell of loam and rot and wet grass flooded my senses, each smell and each sound heightened in the crystalline dark; claws extended, I let myself sink into the thick, soppy mud, pulling myself through it just enough to help mask my scent and I swayed through the clearing, eyes riveted on the slender figure of a young doe grazing just in front of me on the outskirts of a small herd. 

I let myself settle in the prickly grass, watching her; waiting. 

Her eyes flicked and her eyes blinked.

The grass in her mouth made succulent squelches as it was chewed and swallowed. 

Not much meat on her- at least, not enough to fill my belly. But she was young, and I knew whatever meat I could get would be leaps and bounds ahead of those fly-plagued cuts the butcher had hanging in his shop.

Yes, she would do nicely. 

I took a step closer, creeping towards her, my mouth filling with saliva, when the wind changed, and I caught that smell- that musky scent of smoke and sweat and man- and that’s when I knew Naj had been noticed. 

The deer started to run, and I exploded from the grass, snarling. 

Terror gave the doe uncanny agility she leapt and sprinted- her eyes wild- her legs flailing- she careened through the soft earth and left furrowed in her wake- 

I thundered after her, snapping at air, dirt and grass pelting me as I went- 

Bounding and tearing, she flew through the air only to bark as her foot- leg- was caught by my claws- stumbling- falling- 

Coiling like a snake, I dug my talons into her haunches and launched myself at her, narrowly missing being kicked in the eye as I grabbed her my the throat and pulled, coppery blood filling my mouth and agonized bleats filling my ears as I took her down, fighting and tumbling- into the grass where I pinned her thrashing body with my claws. 

A twig snapped and both our heads whipped to find the sound. 

For a split second, instinct overwhelmed me, and the welling taste of blood and prey and fear welling in my mouth made me growl and bare my teeth at the small intruder. 

Naj stood stock still, eyes wide when he saw the blackness of my stare. 

Never bother a predator when they’re eating. 

Still growling, I turned my attention to the panting doe, aching to feast. Her eyes rolled in the face of my hunger; blood trickled down the corner of her mouth. Grunting, I wrapped my mouth around her neck and hauled her to the boy, dropping her weakly stirring body at his feet.

Eat, I told the boy. Kill.   
Mouth set in a determined line, he knelt next to her, hands trying and failing to grasp her- pull her head back and expose her neck. Injured as she was, the doe fought still- as all life does when death stares you in the eye- and still the boy grappled with her with unsure hands, his face pale, the knife held awkwardly in his thin, white-knuckled hand. 

Strengthened by fear and pain, the animal began to thrash- bleat- and I slapped my tail on the ground in annoyance. This was not the way a predator dealt with his prey, and though he had neither teeth nor claws, the boy was a predator, even if he did not know it. 

Kill, I ordered. Now. 

Black as night, the knife flashed and cut. 

I nodded, and the cold silver bucket was pushed under her chin to catch the crimson stream as it spilled over the clean tin and turned it deep red. 

Liquid life: never wasted. 

Heartbeat by heartbeat, it ran like a river into the sea of the bucket, and we watched as the thrashing slowed, the panting faded, and finally, the doe was still. 

Cleaning the deer would be a much quicker process.

Pleased, I watched the boy (still pale but no longer shaking) gut the carcass of his first kill with steady hands and lay the still-warm organs in front of me, waiting for my approval. 

I accepted his gracious offering. 

The heart, the intestines, the great pink lungs- all were gulped down with a hunger no Cursemaker could deny, and once I had eaten my fill, I lit a small fire for the boy to use himself, and the hunt was complete.


	28. Talking

“What business?”

I looked up from my work and raised my eyebrows. “Still alive, I see.”

“I said I’d come back.”

“Hm.” I checked the numbers one more time before blowing on the ink to help it dry. “Naj is doing some work for the Dregs. Small things. Keeps him busy.”

“Good.” Kaz slung off his coat and straightened his tie. “Idleness and Naj make a dangerous combination.”

I gave him a look over the papers. “I’m well aware of that.”

His mouth quirked, and I almost got him to smile at that.

Almost.

That almost-smile was all that I had ever managed to conjure up from my husband’s impenetrable armor. It taunted me: it reminded me that this arrangement- this impasse- would never be breached unless someone spoke up. Years could have gone by, and nothing would change, because we guarded our hearts to well to ever let ourselves be weak again.

I rose to my feet and made my way to the kitchen to boil some water; a handful of black tea leaves went in, and two cups were filled: one a dark, bitter-strong brew, the other tempered with a touch of honey and a drop of magic (I knew his leg ached, and the magic relieved the pain- just a little). Once the tea had steeped, I pushed it in front of Kaz and bade him sit with me

“Now.” I drank from the scalding beverage, reclining in my chair to breathe in the fragrant steam. “Tell me of your travels.”

He did.

…

When evening’s shadow fell across us, and the candle’s wax has dripped to a puddle in the dish, I came to him, and said, with all seriousness, “What happened will never happen again.”

I wasn’t asking him, I was telling him.

He never looked at my wrist; he only looked at me. “I understand.”

There was something in the way he never looked away that gave me the strength to go a step further. “This marriage is a partnership. We can’t afford this kind of nonsense if we want to continue working together, so let’s get this whole business out of the way, now.”

“What do you propose, then?” Ever the pragmatist, my husband: a man ready to make deals and break heads in equal measures, but never to speak plainly about anything remotely personal. Trying to get him to talk was like trying to pull a tree out by the roots with your bare hands: you never succeeded in anything but getting your hands full of splinters.

“I’ve lived here for nearly a decade,” I began. “I have money. I have security. I have the fear and respect my name deserves. I have everything I need to survive.”

“And Naj?”

“I said survive, Kaz.” I drummed my fingers on the table and leaned in. “So: give me one good reason why I shouldn’t pack my bags and leave after what happened.”

Cards on the table, was what I was saying.

Tell me something true.

“You left, and I didn’t think you’d come back. I didn’t expect that you would.” He met my gaze, and I felt my whole chest clench. “I can’t loose you, too.”

Some of my old bitterness seeped into my next words. “Why? Because you need me to get her?” I asked caustically.

He walked over to me, eyes never leaving mine. “I didn’t say that.”

My prickliness lessened but didn’t disappear entirely. “Then what are you saying?” I did my best to look anywhere but him.

Slowly, like he hadn’t moved this way in ages, he reached a hand out towards me to tuck a wayward strand of hair behind my ear. It slipped down, carding through the tangled mess. I felt my breath quicken. Old demons began to dance along the edges of my vision- memories of hands twisting into my long hair to force my head back while they-

I flinched away when I felt his fingers touch my neck.

Not there.

His gloved hand pulled away immediately, but it didn’t leave me.

I nodded wordlessly, heart still pounding with adrenaline.

Light as air, it fell to my waist, and there it rested. Not possessively. Protectively. His fingers we so long they almost touched my spine when they wrapped around me. “Is this alright?” he asked quietly.

I breathed deeply, slowly. “Just…keep talking. So I know it’s you.”

His eyes searched mine. “Tell me if it’s too much.”

Finally, I felt myself relax.

His fingers tightened a fraction of an inch; pulling me gently towards him until we stood so close I could practically count his dark eyelashes.

I tilted my head up to peer at him suspiciously. “What are you doing?”

His eyes flicked down to me. Amber steeped in tea. “Apologizing for being an ass.”

My glower deepened. “Actions speak louder than words.”

His eyebrows flicked up, the slightest smirk unfurling across his face. “Is that a request?”

“I-“ My mouth opened and closed like a fish, and I couldn’t keep a faint blush from heating my cheeks. “No-No!” I mentally slapped myself for my bumbling, idiotic response. “That is- not- what I meant!” I finally bit out, my tone a far cry from what I was trying for.

His smirk widened. “Isn’t it?”

I gaped at him. “You-” I shoved myself away from him in an attempt to reclaim my ruffled dignity. I straightened my veil. Brushed miniscule particles of dust from my front. Muttered obscenities in Shu about my pig-headed husband.

Amusement colored his next words. “I never thought I could make you blush.”

I gave him the nastiest look I could manage. “You’re a smug bastard, you know that?”

“That’s all you can come up with?”

I stopped fidgeting with my clothes. “I still haven’t forgiven you, Kaz.”

The smirk fell away, and so did the levity. “I know.”

“I don’t- ever- want you to touch my wrist like that again.”

He nodded once. At least he was man enough not to make excuses.

“And you had no right to talk to me like that,” I added.

“I know.”

“Do you?” I demanded.

“It won’t happen again.”

I raised my eyebrows, inhaling when his hands- both of them- slid back.

“It won’t,” he repeated, “because I don’t want to be that.” The intensity of his stare made me nervous. “I’m not a good man. I never have been. But I’m not so arrogant as to ask for your forgiveness or trust, because that has to be earned. It has to be fought for. I haven’t done that. So that’s what I’m going to do. Even if I never succeed, that’s what I’m going to do. Because after all these years, I owe you that.”

I had never heard him say so many words in one breath.

I nodded once; to show I accepted what he said. Complete forgiveness would come much, much later. My eyes skated across his face, focusing on the point over his shoulder- on anything that wasn’t him.

It was harder than I thought to avoid.

“Are you ever going to look at me?”

I glowered. “No.”

He let out something like a sigh, and it ruffled my hair. “You’re the most stubborn person I’ve ever met. And the proudest.”

I leaned away to pointedly fix my gaze on the cracked paint on the wall. ”I call that self respect, not pride,” I growled.

He drew me back to him, and even though I didn’t look at him, I didn’t fight it. “I know you don’t forgive me,” he said quietly. “I don’t expect you to.”

“Good,” I snapped, “Because it’s not going to happen. Not until you’re dead!”

He saw the lie for what it was, and the smirk returned with full force. The next words he uttered were carefully aimed to hit that pride, I’m sure. “I didn’t think there was anyone alive who could hold a grudge as long as I could… until I married you.”

I bared my teeth, jerking my head around to glare daggers at him. “I find the idea that you and I are alike incredibly offensive, Kaz Brekker!”

His smirk turned into something more satisfied. “I thought you said you weren’t going to look at me.”

“And you listened?” I scoffed.

A small sound burst from him, and I realized it was a laugh.

An honest to goodness laugh.

That infuriating smirk came back, but it was less of a smirk and more of a smile. “You’re staring,” he informed me.

I couldn’t keep my lips from tugging up. “I didn’t think you could ever do that.”

“Laugh?”

I nodded, feeling foolish.

His eyes were quiet.

I searched his face. “You look sad.”

“I’m…not.” He looked almost surprised. “Strange.”

“Very strange,” I agreed.

We both took in each other’s happiness.

Before I lost my nerve, I closed the gap between us so I could meet his gaze. “I don’t forgive you,” I repeated sternly. “But I think…I’m glad I came back.”

He looked down at me like he couldn’t quite understand why I was here.

Hesitantly, carefully, I reached up to graze his cheek.

His breathing turned shallow, but he didn’t pull away like before.

I lowered my hand. “Only if you want to,” I said.

Kaz’s eyes flicked down. Calculating. Weighing the risks. I couldn’t read all of it, but what I did see cross his face was far from what you would hope for.

I flashed him a small smile and began to pull away.

His fingers pressed against my back- holding me in place, but not in a threatening way. “You never give me a chance to say anything,” he said lightly.

My face immediately warped into a scowl. “I give you plenty of ch-“ I forgot what I was going to say when I finally looked him in the eye.

Inch-by-inch, he bent his head and brushed his lips against my mine.

I felt myself go rigid: hot and cold and buzzing and then liquid.

I could’ve sworn I heard his breath hitch.

My hands rose to hover awkwardly until they settled against his chest.

It was chaste.

It spanned three heartbeats.

It was the only kiss I had ever felt in my heart.

He pulled away.

I drew back and opened my eyes. I fidgeted as some unknown, warm, nervous feeling rolled through me, lighting me up from the inside; it made me feel scattered and grounded all at once. I saw his eyes and paused. Frowned. The pupils were dilated; the brown and amber was beginning to be swallowed with the black. I couldn’t tell if it was from panic or disgust, but I doubted it was from anything good. As for the rest of him…I felt something small in me deflate. “Sorry,” I offered weakly.

He didn’t say a word. Not one. His face was a blank sheet of paper as he stared at me.

It must have been awful, I thought. Ghezen.

“You know, you’d think I’d be better at…” I cringed. “Never mind. You don’t have to do that again for another decade, I promise…”

Kaz nodded stiffly.

Saints. I just needed to shut my mouth.

Disheartened by the awkwardness of the situation, I shifted my gaze slightly only to stop and stare in shock. The tips of his ears and the sharp facets of his cheeks were dusted with a shade of red. He was blushing. Kaz Brekker, Dirtyhands, Bastard of the Barrel, Leader of the Dregs and unofficial overseer of Ketterdam, was blushing. From what? From a simple kiss with…me. Me! It was almost laughable. Ghezen- I didn’t even think he liked me.

So I found myself analyzing that red.

His eyes skittered away from my prying eyes; his throat bobbed as he swallowed.

Maybe he wasn’t disgusted? I thought hopefully. People don’t blush like that when they want to vomit…My eyes flicked up to his head, and I laughed softly.

“What?” he rasped. His voice was rougher than usual. Hoarse.

My lips quirked the tiniest bit. “Your hair’s a mess.” Gingerly I reached a few fingers out and pulled a piece of debris from his hair, careful not to touch his skin. “Just like Naj.”

His eyes charted my every movement.

I brushed it off my fingers and glanced at him from the corner of my eye. “Are you alright?”

“Yes.” His voice was quiet, but at least he didn’t look like he was about to be violently ill, and now he spoke with a measure of normality.

We gazed at each other for a long time.

“Thank you. For what you did,” he finally said. “You should have given those years for someone who deserved them.”

I shook my head. “You’re my husband. Why wouldn’t I try to save you?”

His mouth turned down. Thinking. The infamous Scheming Face took form as something changed in him. Hardened. His hawk-eyes sharpened. Searched my face. He seemed to steel himself. “I need to ask you something,” he said with a tone of finality.

“Alright.” My mouth was sandpaper. “What is it?”

Kaz braced himself, and- and oh God, I knew he was going to say something, and whatever it was, it wasn’t good. A bolt of mindless panic loosened my jaw, and I couldn’t keep myself from cutting him off, my words pouring out of me in a rush: “I know you never really wanted this- but maybe it isn’t so ba-“

“Marry me.”

I think I would have been less surprised if he had stood on the roof and sang a love ballad at the top of his lungs.

Crickets chirped.

A lone dog barked in the distance.

(Truly- I thought he was making some sort of joke!) so I did the only thing I could think of.

I laughed.

His eyebrows went up, and I laughed until my eyes watered and my sides ached. (You know, I must have been suffering from a severe lack of sleep, because- for some reason- the idea of Kaz Brekker asking me to marry him just about killed me.)

To his credit, all he said in response to my less-than-polite cackling was, “Is this how you always react when a man proposes to you?”

That shut me up real fast.

“You-“ I had to consciously make the decision to close my mouth. “You… can’t be serious!” (What can I say? It had been a very stressful week.)

“Because?”

“Because…we’re already married?” I finished stupidly.

“Last time, I asked you to marry me because frankly, I had no choice.”

I couldn’t stop a weak laugh escaping at his candid, brutally honest description of his first proposal.

His fingers twitched. His eyes lowered. Without warning he took my hand in his, leaned down, and kissed me so swiftly and so lightly I barely had time to react- he stole it like the Thief he was- and then he was pulling back and my eyes were opening. It was so unexpected- so surprisingly gentle- all I could do was stare.

And blush myself.

I swallowed to steady my overactive heart. “What was that?”

“Me testing a theory.”

We both seemed out of breath.

As always, his next words cut straight to the heart. “Be with me. Marry me.”

I felt all the air in my lungs get pushed out in one shaky breath.

I looked at him, at this man in front of me, and I saw only truth.

My heart became a bird that opened its wings for the first time, and flew.

But then I looked down at our entwined hands, the gloves between them, and the bird turned back into a heart, which stuttered and dropped to the ground. The joke wasn’t funny anymore. “You don’t need to marry me to make sure I stay,” I said.

His eyes followed them, a frown deepening the shadows of his face. “That’s not why I asked.”

My smile was tired. “You lie so well, sometimes I don’t think you realize when you’re doing it.”

Weariness darkened his face.

“Love doesn’t end well for people like us.” I kept my eyes glued to his hands; my voice was the barest murmur. Sad but determined, I looked up. “I love you, Kaz, but will I ever have you without armor?”

It was like I had doused him in ice water.

He jerked back, raw pain written across his face before it was shuttered out into that wooden mask of distrust. “Where did you hear that from?” he demanded, and then paused, as if regretting his slip up the moment the damning words escaped him.

“Nowhere,” I said slowly. I pulled my hands out of his grasp. “She said that once, didn’t she?”

His eyes were bleak, and they gave me their answer.

The last of my happiness withered into nothing, and I stepped back, winded with bitter disappointment. “You shouldn’t have asked if you didn’t mean it.”

“I’m trying.” His voice was tight at my admission. “This all I can do.”

“If that’s true, then we have a problem.”

The atmosphere went from soft to razor sharp in a heartbeat.

I held my temper in check. “We have no business staying married.”

“Why not?” Anger crept into his voice.

“Why not?” I laughed incredulously. “Look at us, Kaz! We can’t even kiss without fighting.”

He leaned forward on his cane. “But it’s more than that.”

“I know you’re trying.” I said as slowly and evenly as I could. “You’re trying, I’m trying- the problem is, we’re both trying, but it’s not working.”

“Then by all means, what do you suggest, because I’m not entirely sure what else you want me to do,” he said mildly.

I scowled at his caustic tone. “Ghezen- I don’t know, Kaz! All I know is I’ve had one loveless marriage, and frankly, I’d rather not get tied up in another!”

His eyes flashed dangerously.

“I’m sorry. That’s not what I-“ I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed. “What I mean is: you’re still grieving, Kaz. It doesn’t matter that I’m here and she’s not- you’re still hers.”

Up went that wall. “I don’t want to talk about her anymore.”

Years of unspoken words had managed to accumulate between us until their weight hung over us like a storm cloud. The tension stretched, ready to snap.

I slumped in defeat. He gave everything he had to her, and it was becoming clear that I couldn’t even get the scraps. “Let’s not do this again.”

He looked as if he wanted to speak, but something held him back.

Something always did.

“You can’t control how much of people you love…love you.” I smiled, but it barely reached my eyes. “It’s alright. We give as much as we can.” I sat down on the bed, suddenly very tired.

He lowered himself down next to me, eyes far away.

The sun was spilling through the window now, and the dust hung suspended in the air like shafts of gold dust. We sat shoulder to shoulder, not looking directly at each other, exactly- but now the quiet was somehow familiar and comforting all the same.

I saw him out of the corner of my eye, and felt a pang of guilt when I noticed the ugly bruise digging into his eye socket. “Sorry for the black eye,” I grumbled.

“I’ve been punched harder.”

I rolled my eyes. “Just be thankful I didn’t use your cane.”

He made a noise of agreement.

“It’s exhausting, you know.”

His eyebrow went up, and he finally looked at me. “What?”

“Trying to keep you alive.”

“It’s not your job.” He’d said it often enough before, at could have come off sounding rude and standoffish; usually it did. But now it seemed quiet. Quiet, like he cared.

I chuckled dryly. “Families protect each other.”

Something strange crossed his face, but Kaz was anything but easy to read, and it disappeared before I could pinpoint what it was. “Family.”

“Yes.” I stroked my ring. The silver of my hair lay on the floor like an omen. I took a deep breath so I could tell him the awful truth. “Cursemakers die young, Kaz. That’s the way it’s always-”

“Don’t.”

“Kaz,” I said harshly, “Blood Healing is fatal. It wouldn’t be unheard of for me to die tomorrow.”

That certainly was enough to render him speechless, if only for moment.

(Funny, isn’t it? We all know we’re going to die, yet Death never fails to surprise us.)

The shock evaporated and was replaced with the polished steel of his forceful declaration. “We can get a medik.”

I frowned. “Now what in Ghezen’s name would they do?”

He looked at me as if I was very dull indeed. “Keep you alive.”

I was torn between being touched by his concern and being annoyed by his patronizing tone. “Kaz. You hate mediks.”

“I hate people who let problems go unsolved,” he snapped.

“’Problems’, as in people dying?”

“Yes.” His face, his voice- every part of him was perfectly composed. Perfectly neutral. Perfectly unbothered. Ah, Saints. What perfect, polished lies this man dealt the world: fluid and convincing as the deft card tricks the he used to turn your mind’s eye and divert your attention.

“Not every problem can be solved, Kaz.” I scrutinized him and twisted a strand of my hair between my two fingers absentmindedly. “I wasn’t meant to live forever.”

Other than the smallest shift in positions, he refused to acknowledge me; granite in winter would have been more responsive than this hard, frigid man sitting in front of me.

I turned my face to the light and opened my hand, letting the coarse lines of hair slip through the gaps of my fingers and fall without a sound, fluttering out of sight. “You would never forgive me if I died, would you?” I remarked mildly.

“I never wanted this.”

I found it in myself to chuckle. In all my life, I never thought Dirtyhands could sound like that. “Life’s not about what we want. If it was, we’d all be disappointed.”

Again, the silence.

“I’m sorry you lost Inej, Kaz. Truly.”

I felt him go unnaturally still at the name.

My eyelids closed and I sighed. “Don’t be angry.”

“I’m not angry.” The response was immediate and short; brittle as frosted glass.

I shook my head. Obstinate man. “You know, it’s alright if you still love her.”

He was silent for a long time. Too long.

“I’ll her back to you, Kaz.” I said. “I promise.”

He clammed up again. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“Kaz. Am I an idiot?” I asked sharply.

“…No.”

“No, I am not,” I agreed. “I’m one of the few people who can actually revoke this Curse. Believe I will find her again.”

He pulled away. “I can’t.”

“Can’t, or won’t?” I folded my arms. “Do you believe in fate, Kaz? In destiny?”

He laughed at that, and it was a harsh, grating sound. “I don’t believe in anything that’s not real.” He ran a hand through his hair, his face taunt with bitterness as he let out a short breath. “Face it, Meiyu: life enjoys fucking with us. It gives us a taste of happiness and then rips it away so we starve. That’s our curse.”

I sighed. “That’s a rather depressing observation.”

“It’s true.”

“Perhaps.” I tapped my fingers against my arm, deep in thought. “Everyone grieves in a different way. Me? I wither. But you?” I chuckled ruefully. “When you grieve, you don’t wither- you burn. Always so angry, but where does your anger get you?” I shook my head. “You know, even monsters are allowed to feel loss.”

His jaw looked like it was carved from stone- it was clenched so hard.

“Ah, Kaz.” I leaned back against the wall and breathed deeply, filling my lungs with the cool, balmy air. “If a man loved me a fraction of how you love Inej, I think…I could be very happy.”  
I glanced at him dispassionately even as my heart throbbed.

Impassive, his eyes followed me as I eased myself up to pull my shawl around me.

On my feet, I began to walk away.

“Wait.”

I looked over my shoulder at him.

As always, his hand rested tight over the silver crow’s head, posture rigid and straight and unyielding as the bone-breaking cane in his hand. “You never answered my question.”

I paused, angling my head. “And how would you like me to answer?” I replied carefully.

He got up and walked over to me so we stood facing one another. “It’s your choice. Answer however you want.”

I picked my ring off the table, and weighed it, feeling the comforting chill against my fingers. “Staying together is a bad idea- especially if I bring Inej back.”

His face was unreadable as ever. “We don’t even know if that’s possible yet.”

“It is not impossible.” I twisted my ring between my fingers and met his gaze. “If I bring her back, you will not want me.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth.” The rasp of his voice was strangely gentle in comparison to his words. His mouth turned down. “So that’s a no.”

“I didn’t say that,” I replied.

The ring was heavy and altogether too light in my hand.

“I don’t want to have to leave Naj.”

He shook his head. “You’re his mother. You don’t have to marry me to be with him.”

“Thank you.”

We both ran out of words to say.

I stared out the window and gathered my resolve. “Here.” I handed the ring to Kaz and watched how the lines around his eyes deepened. Defeat, even the slightest suggestion of it, seemed wrong coming someone as unbending as him.

“I’m not saying no,” I informed him gently.

Weariness was his armor now.

I offered my left hand to him like I did a piece of my heart. “Let us be equals, you and I.”

Kaz was unreadable as ever. “Weren’t we always?”

I let the corner of my mouth quirk upwards, and a slight tilt in his eyes was the only tell that betrayed his smile.

“I don’t want love from you, Kaz Brekker.” Determined, I slipped forward and linked my hand with his. “Everyone leaves, so I want you to promise that you won’t. I want you to promise you’ll come back.”

Unsmiling, he brushed my veil away from my face, and nodded.

“Your word?” I pressed.

“My word.”

The feeling of the ring slipping back on my finger was both soothing and damning.

Tension seemed to slough off him at that.

I lowered my hands, resolute. “I am yours, but I will never belong to you.”

“You belong to yourself, Meiyu.”

It was evening now, and the lamp’s light threw harsh shadows across the planes and angles of his face. The clear, golden light had dimmed as we spoke. We stood wreathed in shadows and half-light now, spaced deliberately as players on a Chessboard.

“One more thing.”

He waited.

I took a deep breath and crossed my arms. We were both adults- might as well be upfront about- “Sex,” I said bluntly. “I don’t think either of us are interested, so let’s...not.” My bad wrist had begun to ache from the chill. “It has never been good.”

That cold, icy rage lit the dark of his eyes. “I would never force you.”

I knew he wouldn’t. Kaz Brekker was not the same man he was when he broke into the Ice Palace, all those years ago, but I knew what he’d do to any man who would try to touch me.

Love comes in many forms. Not all of them are fair to look upon.

Somehow, without changing his tone in the slightest, Kaz still managed to coax a tiny laugh from me. “One Naj is more than enough for me.”

My answering smile was a stunted, warped thing. “I’m glad.”

Thank God he had the decency not to push me.

Out of habit, I reached out and started to undo his wayward, bloodstained tie. “You may not be a good man,” I murmured against the silk, “but I wouldn’t have anyone else.”

He barely breathed as I spoke.

I tugged the tattered silk away from him and dissolved it to ash, which I dusted off my hands.

He regarded at me as if I was a lock he couldn’t pick. “You don’t have to marry me if you don’t want to. I can accept that.”

I gave a slight shrug to hide my sorrow. “Ei- this marriage is as good as any.”

“That’s comforting.”

Exasperated and fighting a smile, I leveled my gaze with him. “I’m Shu! The idea that love and marriage are inseparable is more suited for you Westerners.”

“Are all your marriages arranged?”

“Most.” I took in his dark expression and smirked wryly. “Not all marriages are like mine, you know. Mine was forced. A lot of people learn to love their partner: they learn to see all the things the other has, not all the things they lack. You were lucky- you loved who you married before you were married.”

His mouth twisted. “I wouldn’t say I was lucky.”

My smile turned sad. “Perhaps not in the way you’re thinking…but you were…” my voice faded as a wave of pure fatigue rolled through me. I fought off a wave of pure exhaustion

His brow furrowed. “Are you alight?”

I pressed a hand to the side of my head. “I don’t know.” My skull felt like it was filled with cement. It swung down, and I felt my balance shift.

Alarm flashed across his face. “Meiyu?”

“I...” I felt myself sway.

The world tilted and fell as my knees began to collapse beneath me.

Two hands wrapped around my arms, keeping me from tipping over. I gripped his biceps, trying to hold myself upright, but I felt so weak.

My husband looked down at me with his coffee-amber eyes, mouth set in a worried line.

“I’m tired,” I breathed. My vision was blurring from tendrils of sleep. “I just need to sit down.”

In one deft motion he lifted me up and deposited me gently on my bed.

I would have hated it if I weren’t so completely drained.

Another lock of my hair turned silver, rolling down the strands until it curled up slightly, dead.

My hands slipped from his arms, dropping with a muted thump. I felt like my muscles had turned into cloth- I was so…fatigued; I was covered in lead weights.

He dragged a chair over and sat next to me, eyes scanning me from head to toe as if he could find whatever was wrong with me and fix it through sheer willpower alone. “You’re not well. You need sleep.”

I nodded wearily. Groggy and fading, I lifted a hand to my hair, and a chunk of it slipped away from my scalp and drifted to the floor in a ribbon of silver. “It’s like…feathers.” I mused, watching the last strands slither through my fingers to float to the ground.

His mouth tightened as he watched it fall.

I curled my fingers into his coat, trying to pull myself upright so he would look at me. “Kaz?”

With startling gentleness he pried my fingers off and eased me back down. “Yes?”

I mumbled something, but I wasn’t sure if I was actually speaking or not. The blanket settled over me, and my eyes snapped back open. “Kaz?”

He stopped adjusting the blanket, almost startled by my sudden awareness. “What is it?”

Exhaustion loosened my tongue enough for me to voice the question that had been bothering me for years. “I’m dying,” I stated calmly. “Aren’t I?”

Dirtyhands had the best poker face I’d ever seen. “No,” he said firmly. That iron-willed conviction made the word crisp as a kruge note.

“Oh?”

“You’re not dying,” he explained. “Our contract hasn’t expired yet.”

I couldn’t help but smile at that.

He returned it, but only just. Smiles for him were nearly non-existent, and when they emerged, they were rusty and creaking. I suppose some things are not within our powers to fake.

I searched his worn face, and something about that cool, unbreachable façade he wore made my stomach slide to my feet. “For a criminal prodigy, you’re a terrible liar.”

The corroding smile dropped.

I closed my eyes before I could see what it would turn into.

No, I thought. I could not tell him what I knew of dying- why I wanted- needed- to bring Inej back- for it would destroy some part of him that had only begun to heal. Now, I can see it was wrong not to tell him sooner. It was cowardly. It was weak. But I could never bear the thought of being the source of such terrible pain- and if I was- I would gladly take myself away from this world and all its troubles if it meant they would be free from carrying such a weight.

So I closed my eyes, and swallowed my secrets and my shame in silence as any good Shu woman does, because that is the way.

His gloved hand was soft as it tucked a bit of my hair away from my face. “It’s like salt and pepper now,” he observed.

Changing the subject.

I cracked an eye open to glare at him. “More pepper…than salt,” I corrected slowly.

His voice was tinged with the ghost of laughter. “Of course.”

My lips twitched up, and in a moment of pure insanity, I patted the area of the mattress next to me. “Just this once,” I said. “I’m cold.” I didn’t open my eyes.

He was silent.

I waited for what felt like ages.

I heard the sound of his cane being leaned up against the small nightstand.

He slipped off his shoes.

Tucked them neatly under the bed so he wouldn’t trip over them in the dark.

The lamp’s flame shrunk and disappeared in a curl of smoke and it was turned off.

I buried my nervous twitch in the blanket. The mattress sunk down with his weight, and I shuffled over as far as I could to give him room, but even then, there were only a few inches between us, so I rolled over to face the wall.

We didn’t speak.

I could hear him trying to master his breathing. “If it’s too much, I understand,” I said to the wall.

His voice was pitched so low I felt it vibrate through me. “It’s not too much.” The tautness in his frame began to unravel as he finally began to relax, until bit-by-bit, his breathing transformed: less frantic. Calm. With excruciating slowness, I felt the unyielding line of his back ease close enough for me to I feel his warmth envelop us, seeping into my bones.

The old Meiyu would have gone completely stiff with fear and disgust. Shoved him away. Told him to never come near her again.

But I wasn’t her anymore.

I willed my body to relax, and to my surprise, it did. “I hope you don’t fidget,” I whispered teasingly at the dark mass looming before me. “If anyone’s going to fall off this bed, it’s you.”

The solid weight of him turned towards my voice. “I’m aware,” came his wry response.

I smiled slightly.

A question hovered between us, and I slid my hand into his, squeezing it gently to reassure him that yes, it wasn’t too much.

Each of his even breaths puffed against my temple: steady rhythms that rose and fell like the tide. “Don’t die, Meiyu,” he said, leaving no room for argument.

I tucked my head closer to the hard, watchful lines. “You can’t order me to live, Kaz.”

“Fine.” His hand tightened in mine. “If you die, I’ll kill you,” he said flatly.

I laughed at his deadly tone; with Kaz Brekker, death threats were not given without weight. “Then…I will do my best… not to,” I promised, curling tight to fend off the mounting cold.

He seemed satisfied with that.

The bed creaked in protest.

The lines fell away.

Two feet limped a collection of steps only to return.

A new layer of warmth enveloped me in the form of a blanket.

The bed and the man grunted as they settled in.

I took the gloved hand once more, and though it was cold, it did not leave me.

And all was silent.

Pulling away, I tugged the small, worn comfort closer around me and I felt myself sink deeper into the haziness of sleep. “Wan’an, Kaz.”

I felt his eyes close in response.

He smelled like dried blood and sweat and the salty wind that blew through of Ketterdam from the sea. But I didn’t mind, because it told me I who he was. Just Kaz.

So, with my husband at my side, I let myself drift into a dreamless sleep.

I felt peaceful.

I felt safe.

I felt happy.

I didn’t realized until much later…that was what love felt life.


	29. Dreams (Kaz)

An’Lin Shu village. Her home. I knew this had to be a dream, but everything felt so real. 

Summertime in the mountain valley. Humid, balmy air settled on me like a thick blanket- so different from the cool, oily breezes of Ketterdam that rolled in from the sea. Glossy-leafed plants sprung from every crevice. Bushes and foliage spilled over the dirt roads like a wild greenhouse. Mountains rose in the distance: shrouded in blue-grey fog rose up like a spine to the east. Their peaks were curved and rolled, looking more like living towers of emerald and grey than stone, the houses that clung to the slopes were packed in one next to another, thatched roofs crowded and overlapping. 

Smells and scents wafted from the huts, exotic and natural alike. Spicy dragon heart peppers mixed with freshly turned earth and cool, sweet rain. Smoke and the coppery blood from the butcher spread a tang through the air. Even the air seemed different: it lacked the oily, rotting undertone of Ketterdam’s street. 

Stray chickens sprinted away, clucking softly as people moved in and out of the huts. 

A ragged goat wandered around its pen. 

A few pigs grunted and squealed. 

People moved up and down the paths, coming and going. The men were strong and browned from the sun, all greens and browns and blues, like the earth itself; the women were dull rainbows in their simple layered dresses; the fabric was delicately patterned, wrapping around them in overlapping pleats and folds. They were decked from neck to ankles with small, brilliant pieces of jewelry carved from jade or bone or simple polished wood. Children ran in and out of the spaces between the houses, laughing and hollering in rapid-fire An’Lin Shu. 

No one seemed to be able to see me. If they did, I would have drawn a lot of attention: foreigners were practically unheard of this deep in Shu Han. Everything I wore, from my long black coat to my leather gloves would have looked out of place: I was a Kerch businessman in rural mountain village. 

I wondered whether she missed it. Ketterdam was my home, but this was once hers. It was so different from Kerch- so secluded- that it felt like stepping into a whole other world, far away from the hustle and bustle of the port cities. She told me once that most of the villagers never moved farther than 20 miles away, that she always wanted to travel outside of Shu Han but never thought she’d have the chance. ‘How do you know who you are if you don’t know where you come from?’ she would ask. “I am An’Lin Shu, and our roots run deep as the mountains.’ 

I glanced over and was stood, transfixed, as a face turned towards me. 

There she was. 

Ghezen. 

She was so young. She looked so... Different. Much smaller. A tiny bump could be seen under her lightweight, long-sleeved dress. Pregnant with her second child, doomed to die. 

She blended in with the people and the forest so seamlessly I almost didn’t notice her in the crowd. She walked down the path, balancing a mountain of neatly folded cloth on her head with the grace of a dancer, waving to the children who darted around her, calling her name. 

The adults gave her wide berth. 

A young boy caught sight of her and snuck up behind her. Cricket. Her brother. Silently, he reached up and gave the pile of cloth on her head a playful shove, making it sway precariously. 

I saw her yelp. 

Her hands scrabbled up to it to keep the pile from tipping over. 

The boy shook with suppressed laughter. 

She whirled around, scowling down at him when as he grinned at her frustrated, exhausted expression. When he smiled, he was the spitting image of her. Her hand shot out, and he jumped back nimbly, barely able to avoid her cuff. Still shouting, she gestured angrily at him, teeth bared, eyes flashing with wrath. 

He bolted like a rabbit, only to turn back just long enough to wave cheekily. 

No one batted an eye. 

One woman patted her on the back sympathetically as she walked past. 

Her eyes flashed with golden fire, and she became an inferno in a village of candles. She thought herself plain, but at that moment, her brilliance outshone any common kind of beauty.

I couldn’t stop staring. 

Neither could a few other men, I noticed. Their eyes drifted her way almost without meaning to, taking in her slender form before darting away. 

I scowled. 

A young man jogged up to her side, and she greeted him with a soft smile, the tightness in her face melting away. Weisheng, I realized with a twinge of irritation. He grinned, gesturing at the load she carried, and she tipped her head to the side, and smiled. 

We had been married nearly five years before I was given anything close to what she gave him. Still, Weisheng was her friend from childhood; it made sense for her to smile at him like that. 

I tried not to hate it. 

I failed. 

I watched as he said something that made her pressed her lips to hide her laughter. 

With a sudden shove, she pushed him in the side. Hard. 

He staggered right into an old woman, who immediately began berating him. 

Meiyu sprinted away, choking with laughter as she left her friend to deal with the irate old woman. She ran at breakneck speed- frantic and untamed as a stampede- her posture straight as a knife to balance the cloth on her head. 

All of a sudden she locked eyes with mine, and I couldn’t look away. 

Her smile fell. 

Her gait faltered, and she stumbled, still riveted on me. 

I stared back, equally started. I didn’t think anyone could see me. 

With a yelp, she crashed into another woman in a daze, and down the cloth fell in a waterfall of colors, tumbling into the grass and dirt. She began to look around but I had already disappeared into the shadows. I saw her pointing to where I was, trying to explain, but the woman she had collided with shouted at her harshly. 

The lady was older, with a haughty gaze and long, sumptuous skirts that draped around her like melting frosting. Her face was round and squat, with lips that puckered in irritation and disgust. Heavy, flat pieces of jade strung with gold beads encircled her neck and throat, flashing like scales. For one brief moment, she looked like a very large, very grouchy fish. 

Meiyu seemed to cringe slightly at her scowl, and I realized why. 

This was the matchmaker: one of the most respected women in the village. 

And Meiyu had just ran down the street, smashed into her, and dropped her laundry. 

I snorted in disbelief. Meiyu doing menial labor for that overstuffed dictator seemed ludicrous, especially since I knew what she would become later. 

I watched as her hands scrambled to pick the clothing up, brushing off the dirt as best she could. Her fingers were long and clever: strong hands made from hard work with pale golden skin. Free of scars. Meiyu gathered up the clothes under the upturned nose of the Matchmaker. Sheepishly, she offered the laundry back to the woman, who snapped at her and pointed back towards the river. 

Her body language was obvious. “Wash it again, stupid girl,” she spat. 

People stared.

One or two nodded to each other knowingly. 

The Meiyu I knew would have used the cloth to strangle her. This Meiyu nodded meekly and started to walk back, her gait stiff and humiliated. Her knuckled whitened where she clenched the fabric, and with a huff, she heaved it back up onto her head and continued walking back. 

I heard her muttering obscenities at the woman. And, I think, me. 

Apparently some things never changed. 

I followed her without a sound. 

The path was worn down by many feet, but navigating it put stress on my bad leg, and soon we arrived at a river pouring from the mountain. A small area jutted out, and she lifted the laundry off her head and began unwrapping the boar’s bristle brush and soap flakes from a small package she carried. She knelt down at the riverbank and angrily began to wash the clothes again, muttering complaints under her breath. 

Time went by. The brush made a rhythmic scratching noise as she scrubbed, and I could hear her humming to herself while she worked. 

I always heard her humming, whether we were out doing business or walking down the street or with Naj, she always seemed to be singing. All the time. It used to piss me off, because it was too much like Alys. I used to wonder if she even realized she was doing it. 

I told her it drove me insane. 

She ignored me. 

I learned to live with it. 

I don’t tell her to stop anymore, because I find I hate the silence much more than the humming. 

Her face lost its annoyance and became quiet as she scrubbed and slapped the wet cloth down onto the rocks. The water splashed along, almost drowning out her voice, but I could still hear it. The melody leapt out of her, and she gave up being quiet. Now she sang at the top of her lungs and wrung the clothes out to the beat of the song. 

I leaned on my cane and just listened. 

It was lilting and playful. 

It was…joyful. She never sang so freely, even with Naj. 

And yet...her voice was made for lullabies, I noted, cringing at the off-key notes. 

She did, too, for that matter, but she didn’t seem to mind. She just chuckled to herself and kept singing. 

For one moment I saw her as she once was. I watched her laugh and sing, a shadow falling across my mood when I remembered what would happen to her when she went home to her husband. How that joyful, lilting voice would go silent. 

I must have shifted without realizing it, because her whole body went still. 

Her head slowly rose. 

She looked around again, and saw me in the shadows. The smile fell off her face as she inhaled sharply, rooted to the ground with breathless terror. The wet cloth in her hand fell to the ground with a loud slap and she stumbled to her feet, frantically scanning the area for others like me, looking for an escape route. 

“I’m not here to kill you,” I said quietly in Shu. I made no move towards her. She would see it as a threat. 

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously, but I could see she was strung tight as a bowstring, ready to fight if need be. “Who are you?” She spoke in heavily accented Shu, but now I could understand her. I saw her hands clenched, but her voice was calm and forceful. “Answer, Kerch.” The tiniest threads of golden mist had begun to trickle off her like rivulets of water since she saw me, snaking their way towards my legs through the grass. 

I wouldn’t have noticed them if I didn’t know what she was. Out of instinct, I gripped my cane tighter to defend myself, and she saw it. 

She whipped her hand out, and in the blink of an eye it was wrenched from my grip and she caught it with one hand. “Why did you follow me?” 

“Give that back, now.” I stepped towards her, and she lifted my cane in front of her like a sword, trembling but strong. Even though she was just a girl, she held herself like a soldier preparing for battle. Apparently she knew only too well what being a Cursemaker meant.

“One more step, foreigner, and I will kill you. Here and now.” She sounded so much older than she looked. Her voice had the tiniest quiver, but I could tell she was fully prepared to be true to her word. “Tell me why you follow me.” 

The mist tightened suddenly around my ankles and tied me to the ground. It dug into them like burning wire, and I gritted my teeth in discomfort. “I just wanted to... apologize for startling you,” I responded, and her eyes widened a bit at how well I spoke. 

Which was funny, since I learned from her, after all. 

I also suspected that since this was a dream, my Shu was much better than in real life. 

“I’m not trying to kidnap you. Or kill you.” 

She scoffed. “So you are genzongkuan,” she said sarcastically.

I didn’t recognize that one. “What?”

She rolled her eyes. “Guess.”

“A…stalker?” 

“Close enough.” 

Even at sixteen, Meiyu didn’t mince words. “I’m not a stalker.” 

We stared each other down.

I shifted off my bad leg. 

Her mouth turned down as she stared at it curiously. “What happened?” 

“Broke it in a fall. Bone never healed right.” 

She noticed it and bit her lip before glancing at me with narrowed eyes. “I do no think you are lying, and if you are…then I will kill you.” 

Fair enough. 

Her mouth curled up into a sly smile and she shrugged nonchalantly, “Catch.” She tossed me my cane back, and I caught it in surprise. 

Gratefully I leaned against it, shifting to take the pressure off my leg. 

“I could kill you just as easily with it,” she calmly stated. “And…you looked like your leg was really bothering you,” she admitted almost guiltily. 

I was taken aback by her kindness. The Meiyu she would become would never have done that. She would have used my cane to break my bones. 

“It is alright. About the laundry, I mean.” Her eyes brightened to an unsettling degree. “Actually, I’m glad you dropped it.”

“Because?…”

“Well,” she hummed, and then she launched into the fastest, longest monologue I’d ever heard in my life. “He won’t let me talk to anyone, but I don’t know why, because no one wants to talk to me anyway. They say I am annoying. I know they are scared. They think I am mad; they will not look me in the eye, but you will. I like that. People who look you in the eye see you, and it is good to be seen, is it not? Everyone says I talk too much for a girl. I do. I talk all the time. People here are so used to it they tell me to shut up even before I open my mouth….” 

I suppressed my smile. 

“But I think you can understand me- and not just the simple words- you understand everything I am saying. Now how would a merchant know our language that well? A friend? No. Someone closer. Someone who speaks to you all the time. You do not look as if you are Hun-“

“Jumbled?-“

“-Mixed. Like, Kerch and Shu. (I am Hun.) No, you are too white to be Shu-“

I marveled at the way she seemed both unbelievably friendly and uncannily perceptive. 

“Are you married to a Shu woman? That would make sense- oh, I’m sorry- I’ve made you uncomfortable. You must be too polite to tell me to go away. Really, if you want me to go away you can just tell me. I will understand.” 

Now she was earnest. Subdued. 

Her open face was open to the point of desperation; even a complete stranger would be able to see that she hadn’t been able to talk with another human being for a long, long, time. 

And it showed. 

I didn’t even have the chance to say she could keep talking before she saw my face and took it as a sign to talk even faster, happiness radiating off her. 

“Oh, I am glad you are not bothered by me! No one has ever let me talk this much! Ever! Even my best friend tells me to stop after a while. You are very smart- I can see- but your accent is awful, so you must have learned it late in life. I do love languages. I can speak three. I’m working on my fourth-” 

Her mind worked as fast as her words; each thought had a tendency to overtake the other with such startling clarity and speed that it was like watching a rabbit bound across a rock-studded field: chaotic, yet inexplicably graceful. 

“And I think if I had the chance I’d be able to learn Ravkan, but no one speaks Ravkan here, so I will have to wait. Too bad. Ravka is our neighbor, so we should be ready to speak with them, should we not? Who knows? Someday, we may need to! Oh, I know we are not supposed to associate with those ‘unnatural Grisha’- but people think I’m unnatural, so who cares? Anyways, I know you are Kerch, but you do not sound as if you are a farmer. You are too- well - too businesslike. The way you stand, the way you speak- it is sharp. Cutting. You use short sentences. Simple words. But that does not mean you are simple, or slow.”

“No?” I said (just to let her catch her breath.) 

“No. I have a feeling you are as smart as the Trickster King himself, but you speak harshly so as to not waste time. Ha. That is funny. I waste your time now- but you have no choice but to listen to me! Ha. Haha.” She started chuckling deep in her belly like a mischievous child. “It is good you have a bad leg- you cannot run away from me! Oh, please do not be offended. I only joke, because I think it is better to see one’s flaws than pretend they do not exist. Are you angry? No? You look as if you might smile, so I think I am alright! Yes. I think I like you. Yes. Why, you ask? Because you look at me. I like that. Men do not look at women like that. You remind me of-” 

I cleared my throat. 

She blinked. “Oh. What were you going to say?” 

I didn’t try to hide my smirk. “Do you ever stop talking?” 

And just like that, her smile disappeared. “Don’t look at me like that,” she snapped. The switch from happy chatter to near snarling gave me pause. 

“Like what?” I asked carefully. 

“Like I am mad,” she growled. Twitching, her finger began to pick at a stray area of her skirt. 

They were dyed red from it. 

“He tells people I am mad.” She was whispering now, muttering darkly to herself, “Sometimes, after, he gives me flowers, and when they die, he says it is my fault. He says I am a stupid and worthless, and that everyone else thinks so, too. He does not lie. Everyone thinks I am mad. My parents. My friend.” A dangerous gleam lit behind her glassy eyes. The shine brightened as it turned on me. “Even you.” 

“I don’t think you’re mad.“ 

“Men lie,” she said slowly, dread dawning. “Everything you say now could be a lie.” 

“I’m not lying to you.“ 

“I am not MAD!” Her voice cracked with hysteria. “I’m not…” In that moment, she didn’t look mad: just horribly alone. “I’m not,” she breathed. 

“I never said you were mad.” I spoke to her in the same way I did when she had flashbacks. “I smiled because I was making a joke. A bad one. But I don’t think you’re insane.”

“You-you don’t?” 

The raw hope in her voice made my stomach clench. 

“I know you don’t know me, but I will not lie to you.” I put as much force behind my words as I could. “If you don’t think I’m telling the truth, fine, but I’m not going to play those fucked up mind games on you.” 

The slightest glimmer of surprise and admiration sparked in her eyes. “You know how to say that in Shu?” 

I sighed. “You can talk as much as you want. You can talk until your face goes blue for all I care. It’s annoying-“ her face fell- “and it makes you sound like a lunatic-“ she flinched- “but I won’t stop you. That’s all I can do.” 

“I know sound mad,” she murmured. “But I am not- I promise on the gods themselves! What you say is true: I do talk too much.” The crazed, cornered look had receded, and now she seemed close to tears. “Maybe you should leave now. It might be better if you go.” 

“You shouldn’t be so trusting, you know.” 

“If you think I trust you, you’re much stupider than you look,” she said immediately. 

But she did trust me, because I had listened to her, and treated her like she had a brain. The only people who had ever done had been taken from her, one by one. It was her greatest weakness: she latched onto whoever showed her the tiniest shred of kindness and didn’t let go. 

It made her vulnerable in ways I didn’t even want to think about. 

With the dregs of her panic dissipating, she now eyed me with equal measures of interest and suspicion. “You speak very well-for a baimian.” Her eyes traveled head to toe, taking in my strange clothing, and she seemed much more centered now. “What are you doing here?” 

I brushed soil off my pants. “I got lost.” The lie rolled off my tongue, but she didn’t seem to buy it. 

“’Lost.’” 

“I’m a merchant.” I smirked at the ridiculous lie. ”Not a murder.”

She crossed her arms. “Maybe you’re not a kidnapper or a murder, but you're still a liar,” she blurted out brusquely. 

My lips twitched. 

A faint blush crept up her face. “Sorry. That was rude.” She inched away. 

I wiped sweat off my brow and shrugged off my coat, rolling my sleeves up. Damn, it was getting hot out here now that the sun was beating down. “What’s your name?”

She raised an eyebrow. “You are a stranger, and a man.” 

“So?” My voice held a challenge. 

“So, why in the world would I tell you my name?” She peered up at me, almost teasingly. I began to see what she might have been if she had never been married. 

“Why not?” I shot back. 

She huffed in defeat, fighting against her own smile. “You are very strange.” She looked down a bit shyly. “Meiyu. My name is Meiyu.”

“Kaz,” I said. 

“Kaz.” She weighed it on her tongue. “A strange name for a strange person,” she mused. 

“It’s Kerch.”

“I assumed,” she replied dryly. “How old are you, then?” 

I looked down at myself. “What do you think?” I honestly couldn’t tell.

Incredulous, she barked out a laugh. “You truly do not know?” 

“No.” 

“Oh.” She shrugged. “Well, I think you look about my age.” 

“So how old are you?” I asked shortly. 

Her eyebrows went up. “Sixteen. And you are rude, too.” 

I brushed some dirt off my cane. “I’m not the one flirting with a complete stranger,” I said just to rib her. 

She flushed all the way down to her collarbone. “I am not-“ 

Somewhere far away, a voice bellowed, calling her name. 

Her head whipped around, looking for him. 

The blush that had risen so quickly was leached from her in a heartbeat.

I watched all of the progress I had made to coax her out of her own head disintegrate into ash; it took all of three seconds for her eyes to empty until all that remained was glass marbles that rolled like a petrified animal. 

“I have to go,” she said to the ground. Hands shaking, she gathered up her laundry and hoisted it back into her arms. “Should not be talking. Not allowed. No. Not allowed. I must go. I must. I have done wrong and he will know it.” 

“You haven’t done anything wrong, Meiyu.” 

Her eyes stared at me and saw nothing. “You were kind.” I had never heard her so defeated. “Safe travels, Kaz of Kerch.” 

The high-collar of her blouse shifted as she turned to leave, and I felt hot fury surge in me at the purple and green bruises that encircled her neck and plunged below her collar. Some of the bruises were days old. Some looked fresh as blood. 

Either way, each color shrieked of abuse. 

“Did he do that? Your husband?” I gestured towards the molten bruises. 

She turned a sickly shade of grey as she yanked her shirt closer around her neck and tried to dash around me, but I blocked her. 

“It happens often, doesn’t it?” 

“Don’t.” Her voice had gone flat and lifeless. Every syllable she spoke was bitten off at the end with cold efficiency. She was scared. “Leave me alone.” 

“Meiyu.” 

She went still.

“Does no one notice?” I tried to keep my voice even. “Does no one care?” 

A dark red blush spread down her neck. 

I stepped closer. “What about your family?” 

Halting, she shook her head, eyes fixed on my cane. 

“He’s killing you!” I said fiercely. “Can’t you see that?” 

Her eyes flicked down, and she seemed to curl into herself. “A woman belongs to her husband,” she stated sadly, as if she had been told this a dozen times. “We suffer, because we must.” One hand subconsciously grazed her stomach. Her child. “It is the way.” 

The meek acceptance in the statement made me want to hit something. 

“You’re Cursemaker. You have the power to stop him. You just need the strength.” 

Her shyness evaporated and she clenched her teeth, eyes blazing as she advanced towards me. This- this was the Meiyu I knew the best. “Do not call me weak!” 

“I’m not-“ 

“You are a baimain- foreigner!” she spat. “A man. Your life is your own! But this,” she shook her bruised arm, “this is what my life is now. What it always will be!” 

We were nose to nose. 

“Is this what you will let your child’s life be? Bruises and beatings and the idea that she was made to suffer?” 

The blood ran from her face as her hand leapt to her belly, the slightest swell barely visible. “How…” She looked close to tears. She looked strickened. 

She looked downright furious. 

A golden thread tightened like a noose around my ankle.

Shit.

My world turned upside down, and before I could even shout I felt myself get yanked off my feet and hurled into the deepest part of the river with a colossal splash. 

I shot up, swearing and spitting out water, drenched in slimy yellow silt. 

She watched from the bank, angry red spots glaring high on her cheeks. Her eyes were full of quiet satisfaction. And anger. 

I stood there, glaring ferociously, soaked to the bone. 

Her hand flicked up. 

I barely managed to suppress my flinch. 

Nothing.

My brow furrowed. What?...

“Swim, Kaz,” she called helpfully, pointing to my left. 

I followed her line of vision and watched as my cane drifted away down the river, tugged along by a string of magic. “Fuck,” I muttered.

Her eyebrows quirked. “Hurry up, then.” 

Dignity abandoned, I lunged for it, floundering as I dragged my legs through the thick mud. 

It bobbed along cheerfully, the crow’s head shining in the sun.

I swore. 

Dammit. Fucking dammit. 

I threw my body against the current, scrabbling. 

It floated, tauntingly, just out of reach.

My hand shot out and I wrenched it out of the water right before the current carried it away. I whipped around, murderous. 

A look of condescending approval spread across her face and she began to clap. “Well done!” she praised. 

I practically snarled. “I will kill you for this,” I promised. 

“Try,” she quipped, and with a swirl of skirts, she marched off. 

I watched her disappear around the trees. “Even at sixteen, you were a demon from hell,” I growled, pushing my sopping wet hair out of my face as I half swam, have trudged my way slowly back to the bank. 

This dream was more like a nightmare. 

I sighed. 

At least the water was warm. 

…

Later, while I was wringing out my sopping wet, coat and shirt, she found me. I didn’t think she would come back. 

I hoped she wouldn’t. 

Her rustling steps were hesitant. 

I didn’t turn to look at her. My pride still smarted.

“I...ah...I am… very sorry.” She paused. “I should not… have thrown you in the river. Or… pushed your cane away from you.” I could almost hear her wince. “That…It was cruel, and I am sorry,” she whispered. She sounded incredibly guilty, and in her hands was- a blanket- which she held out to me, avoiding eye contact. 

I glared at her venomously. 

She shuffled back, ashamed and subdued. 

Her left wrist was encircled with a red manacle of bruises, and the right side of her face was blotchy and swollen. 

“It is not bad,” she said the instant she saw my anger flaring. “I deserved it.” 

“You deserved to be beaten,” I said slowly, “for not coming when he calls?” 

She gave a tiny shrug. 

I wrung my shirt even harder and imagined it was her husband’s neck. 

“It is alright- I will be fine tomorrow. Really, it does not hurt much now, and it was my fault-” The quick, hurried way she talked now was so much like Wylan when he first joined us: brushing off bruises and black eyes like they were nothing. “-I did not come home, and he was worried, you see...he worries I could be hurt-” 

“Bullshit.”

Startled by my harshness, she blinked. 

“He’s not worried about you being hurt,” I said as I wrenched the water from the cloth, “Worry implies he cares- which, by the way, he doesn’t. He’s not worried- he’s angry you don’t heel like a dog when he whistles. He’s pissed that you haven’t been broken yet. And if he did cares for you, it’s in the same way a man cares about his brood mare that’s wandered too far from the pasture.” 

Her shoulders slumped; bravado abandoned, what settled on her face now was a look of deep, crippling shame. “I know,” she whispered. 

My shirt was still wet though, but that meant it was cool. “Here.” I wrung it out one last time before offering it to her, nodding towards the bruises. 

“I am alright,” she said stiffly. 

“Just take it.” 

She scowled with less venom than usual as she accepted the shirt and pressed it to her swollen face. “Why are you kind to me?” she asked warily. 

“You think I know?” I began stripping out of my pants with sharp tugs. 

Her eyes bugged. “Wha- what are you doing?!” she yelped, looking vaguely terrified. 

“I’m not going to rape you.”

Shocked, her mouth opened and closed. Her scandalized expression receded, but it didn’t leave. “Then… Have you no shame?” She half whispered, half spluttered. 

“Not really, no.” 

Almost without her consent, her eyes flicked down; she immediately whirled around, blushing furiously. “Oh, gods… put your clothes back on! I can see everything!” She barked brusquely, red all the way down to her collarbone. 

“My clothes, thanks to you, are soaked. So I’d rather not.” 

“What is the matter with you?! Do you know what would happen if anyone saw us?” She buried her face in her hands, moaning. “Ai- I will be ruined!” 

“Not my problem.” 

“Just- please- cover yourself up for Saints’ sake!” she yelped, thrusting the towel towards me, her eyes squeezed shut. 

Pointedly I ignored the towel she shook in my direction and continued wringing out my pants. I spread them out in the sun to dry. Her shyness was so at odds from what I usually saw of her. “You can open your eyes now.” 

She pried her eyes open cautiously, fuming at my tiny smirk. With a growl, she wrapped the blanket into a ball and hurled it at my head. 

I caught it smoothly without looking up. It was thick and heavy: coarsely woven but soft. I dusted it off and wrapped it around myself. “Thank you.” 

“Prick,” she muttered. A blush still tinted her cheeks, and she watched me balefully. 

Within minutes I was reasonably dry, and when the sun came out, I sat with my cane across my legs, watching the river flow by. 

Time ticked by in silence. 

“Are you just going to stand there?” I asked mildly. 

She glanced around, uncomfortable, before drudgingly lowering herself next to me. 

We stared out at the water. 

My temper had cooled enough that I no longer wanted to strangle her with my bare hands. 

Besides the soft sound of her humming, the forest- the river- the noise of An’Lin Shu was completely different from Ketterdam. 

“It’s quiet,” was all I said. 

“That is the way things are,” she replied with a small shrug, adjusting the shirt against her face. “You must have gotten really lost to end up here.”

“I didn’t get lost. I already knew about it from a friend.” 

“Mmhmm.” I could tell she didn’t believe me. 

“I have a question.” 

She shook my shirt out and laid it on the sun-soaked ground to dry. The swelling underneath her skin had gone down some, but the redness remained. “Alright.” 

“Do you normally throw cripples in rivers when you’re angry?” I stared at her, blank-faced so she couldn’t tell that I wasn’t angry anymore. 

A bit of my humor returned to me at her extremely guilt-laden expression. “No,” she mumbled. 

We sat in silence again. 

She produced a round, lumpy object out of her pocket and held it out to me. “I…also brought you this.”

I didn’t take it. “Poison.”

She rolled her eyes. “No!” A tiny smile hovered around her mouth as my lips twitched. “It is just baozi. I thought you might be hungry after your swim.” 

I accepted it from her. “Truce?” 

“Truce.” Her eyes crinkled, and I could see her so clearly in that one look. 

I took a bite, and the flavors exploded across my tongue: savory juices mixed with tender vegetables and meat, wrapped in sweet, soft dough- the same ones she had made us so many times. It was still warm. I devoured it in a few bites. Even in dreams, the food was amazing here. 

She smiled and began to eat her own, chewing thoughtfully. “You know, I feel like I have known you my whole life.” She took another huge bite. “It is the oddest thing.” 

I didn’t answer. 

“How did you know?” 

I paused. “What?”

She looked down at herself, face drawn. “It has only been a few months.” 

“Lucky guess,” I lied. 

“No. You knew.” Her eyes narrowed. “You must be very young to have a child.” 

“He was a surprise,” I said honestly. 

Her eyes twinkled. “I see.” The light inside her died as her eyes fell to her stomach. “I do not want children,” she whispered. 

I thought of Naj. “I didn’t think I would, either.” 

“No.” Her eyes met mine, and I was stuck at how old and tired she looked “Once my son is born, I will never have another child again. I will make sure of it.”

“More men have had me than I can even remember,” she once told me. I saw the unyielding look in her eyes, and I knew what she was choosing not to say. She was a Cursemaker, after all. “You don’t have to stay with him,” I said quietly. 

Her mouth was a hard line. “Be glad you have a son, Kaz. A daughter brings only sorrow.” 

“I don’t think you believe that.” I wiped my fingers off on the grass. “Actually, something tells me your daughters will bring you joy.” 

The hardness began to recede, and her face lightened a degree, the jaded edges receding just enough to reveal something hesitant and warm. “I should like to have both,” she admitted, as if she expected me to mock her. 

I almost laughed at that. “I have a feeling you will.”

Tentative, her smile crept back and she looked down at the slope of her stomach. Then back up at me. She brushed the stickiness off her fingers and heaved herself up. 

I raised an eyebrow at the hand stuck in front of my face. “Come on, Kaz. I need to make up for throwing your sorry ass in the river.” Laughter bubbled over in her words. 

“Why in the world should I trust you? You almost drowned me.” 

“Because, I am the nicest lunatic in this village! Ask anyone.”

I snorted. 

“Come on. It will be worth it.” 

“For you. You’ll throw me off a cliff,” I said dryly. 

She grinned. “Tempting, but this will be…fun.” 

“Fun.” 

“Yes. You said it was quiet, but what you meant was ‘boring’. So, I wanted to give you a taste of what real fun looks like- and not the kind of fun your kind enjoys.”

“’My kind’?” 

Her eyes gleamed with a tad too much enthusiasm for a respectable Shu girl. “Money-hungry, back-stabbing, Ketterdam criminals!” she replied with a mischievous look. 

Cleary she was joking, but I smirked at how close she came to the truth. “And what have you heard of Ketterdam?” 

That lit the brightest light of all in her eyes. “Well,” she began eagerly, and I braced myself for the onslaught of words, “my Gonggong is Kerch, and he says Ketterdam is where the worst of men go to make their fortune- thieves, murderers, gamblers- you know. He said a city like that breeds bad deeds and worse people. But there must be some good there, yes? I mean- I am only a girl, and I am sure there is truth in what my Gonggong says; a city that large must mean you can disappear- make yourself someone new- but new is not always good. Still… I cannot believe that all those who live in Ketterdam are bad people. You are from Ketterdam, and you are kinder than many people here who have known me my whole life!”

I still couldn’t understand how she saw me as kind. 

“And anyways: people are never all good or all bad, because that is not the way,” she continued. “No, people are a mix of both. Some just have more of one than the other in them. I know this, because some people do bad things in the name of good, and some people do good things in the name of bad. I wonder which is worse. (I think the first one is worse,) but my Waipo says it is not our place to say which is right. That belongs to the gods.” She glanced at me. “Or Ghezen, or the Saints.” 

I shook my head at her overwhelming obliviousness. 

“What?” she asked defensively. 

“I’ve met many people. A few like me. Most want me dead. But occasionally, there are some who manage to come off as acceptably smart. You, however-“

“Are annoying? -“

“-You have no idea. But you’re also one of the most intelligent people I’ve ever met.” 

“Ah! - Now I know you come from Ketterdam, because that is a lie! I’m the stupidest person I know! And I am the village lunatic.” She said it like it was common knowledge. 

“Believe me, you’re perfectly sane and very smart. You just talk too much.” 

She beamed so wide she could have pulled a muscle from the strain. “That is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me!” she exclaimed. 

I rolled my eyes at the pure delight in her voice. 

Only Meiyu. 

“But you did not answer my question.” 

“I can’t even remember what it was.”

“I asked you, are there any good things in Ketterdam?” 

I saw Inej cradling Naj; Jesper reading to Wylan; Nina gorging herself on a stack of waffles; Meiyu, laughing as she danced with all of them, and I just said, “Yes. There are.” 

“Like what?” 

I suppose it wouldn’t have taken her long to see through my lies. 

Meiyu’s eyes searched mine. “What is it?” 

I could have told her a million tiny things about Ketterdam: the smell of salt and sweat and gunpowder; the narrow alleys that never were safe and the wide skies that never felt trapping; the thrill of a chase; the rustle of kruge; the reward of a hard job well done. 

“I don’t have to tell you about it. You’ll see it yourself, someday.” 

She smiled again, and offered a hand full of friendship. 

I saw her smile, and anyways, if this was a dream, why not? I ignored her hand and pushed myself up with my cane. My clothes had dried enough, so now they were just slightly damp. I pulled them on but left my coat for now. 

“Come. I will show you the way.” She turned around and began to weave her way down a path through the mountains. My leg protested with every step, but she moved slowly enough that I could keep up, glancing behind her every few seconds to make sure I was alright. 

The air thinned slightly, and I heard a distant rushing noise. 

A river. 

We came to a cliff, and I looked down to see the water roaring beneath us, frothing in murky greens and yellows. Sparkling mist rose up in glittering pillars. The spray sighed over us, cool on my skin after the oppressive humidity. 

A cable stretched all the way from our side of the river to the other in one long line, so far that it almost disappeared from view. It looked like the entire thing was one giant pulley. A rickety wooden …box…hung from the wire, suspended by a thick looped rope. Next to the box was a tangled mass of rope- almost like a seat. They both looked ready to fall to pieces. A makeshift platform had been created at the very edge of each side, so you could step off it and… cross? 

My eyes darted to hers, and she grinned in the same way Jesper did when he was in the middle of a fight, shooting at something. 

Ghezen. 

“This,” she said with relish, “is what we do for fun.” Mischief danced around her eyes, making them gleam with a slightly mad light. 

I prodded the wooden crate with my cane. “This thing looks dilapidated.” I could see the fibers fraying in spots, and the friction had blacked some areas. 

She crossed her arms, a smirk hovering around her lips. “Scared?” she challenged. 

“No.” I wasn’t scared of the height-I was scared of depending on that tattered collection of bamboo to carry me across a thousand tons of roaring water and bedrock. 

“Watch and learn, Kerch.” 

Deftly she stepped past the wooden box, hoisting her legs and torso gracefully through the loops until she dangled from it like a fish on a hook. She didn’t even check to tighten them. With a mad gleam in her eye, she touched her feet to the ground and shuffled to the edge of the platform to peer down into the thundering abyss. One hand held onto the rope with lazy indifference, as if it had to be there out of politeness. 

Without warning my cane arched gracefully into the air, spinning head over tip.

She spun around and caught it with a swipe, taking a step back. 

A shout of laughter burst from her…

I watched in horror as her foot slipped from the edge of the platform. 

Her golden eyes widened in shock, and she hung suspended for a moment, hair floating like a black cloud. 

I lunged for her, futilely trying to grab something, anything. 

But gravity took effect…

…And she dropped like a rock. 

I gaped, hand still reached out. 

I couldn’t believe it. 

I lost her. 

Ghezen, I lost her. 

I felt sick. 

But then I heard the echo of a mad, cackling laugh. It was a sound of pure delight. 

Not fear. 

Delight.

My teeth ground together. 

God I hated her.

My eyes found her as she plummeted down and away, spinning madly and whooping. 

And I went right back to wanting to strangle her. 

Her form grew small as it whizzed down, faster and faster as she shot through the spray of the river. Recklessly she held onto the rope with one hand and leaned back as far as she could, just barely brushed the tops of the waves with my cane before gracefully arching back up. It was like watching Inej walking across a wire: mad. Suicidal. Defying all laws of science. 

If she fell she’d be killed, I thought sourly. 

Even though she had obviously done this a thousand times, my heart was still lodged my throat as I watched her pull stunt after stunt. My hands ached from clenching them. 

Nimbly, she lifted her legs and touched down on the platform below us without one stumble. It was so far away I had to squint to see her. She turned around and placed her hands on her hips. I think she was grinning. 

I wanted my cane back. 

I wanted to shake her until her teeth rattled. 

I wanted to fucking murder her!

But unless I crossed the river, I couldn’t do anything. 

Dammit. 

Quickly she began pulling the rope, and the seat shuffled along the cable, finally stopping at my line of vision. 

Her voice bounced along the rocks, barely audible. 

I shook my head. “What?” I shouted. 

I strained my ears to hear her yell, “Use the rope! Come on!” 

“No!” I hurled back. “I’ll fall and kill myself!” 

She threw her head back and laughed. Cupping her hands around her mouth, she bellowed. “You need your cane, Kaz!”

Unfortunately, what she said was true: my leg wouldn’t last a day in this place without it. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” I grumbled as I picked up the limp rope, eyeing it dubiously. “If this is a dream, I’ll really hope I wake up before I hit the rocks.” Awkwardly I looped the rope straps around my legs and middle the way she had done. I stepped up the edge of the platform and looked down at her encouraging smile. 

I’m going to throttle her when I get to the other side, I told myself. 

I stepped off. 

My stomach shot into my mouth for the first second of free fall. I spun wildly as I grabbed onto the rope with both hands, gritting my teeth. 

The landscape became a blur of greens and greys, yellows and whites. 

The wind howled through my ears, tearing at my hair. 

Something smelled like it was burning…

I looked up and saw the rope blackening slightly. 

I swore viciously. 

This better be a dream, I glowered. 

The river roared, louder and louder as I began to pass over it. 

I braced myself for the impact that never came. Smoothly I sped through the mist, feeling the water settle on me in a cool, refreshing spray. 

Ale-brown water leapt up, frothing as it thundered and churned across the countryside. It pounded into the rocks, pure white, raging like a beast. The river flung itself down the mountain, shaking the ground with its raw, untamed power. 

I looked around in quiet wonder. This place- this village- it was like a world from legends. It was dangerous and beautiful and wild all at once. 

So different from Ketterdam. 

In a way, it reminded me of Meiyu. 

I suddenly realized I was enjoying myself. 

Then I saw the platform come hurtling towards me. 

My reverie shattered, and I yanked myself up with all my strength, careening past Meiyu as my momentum carried me too far. 

I ended up colliding with the end of the cable with a teeth-jarring thud. 

Meiyu jumped forward, steadying me so I didn’t fall. She was smiling so wide her molars showed. 

With a jolt, I realized I was smiling slightly, too. 

“Well?” she pushed. “Is it not fun?” Her whole face glowed. 

I disentangled myself from the ropes with as much dignity as I could muster, hoping stiffly down. “It was alright,” I said flippantly. 

“No! You were smiling. I saw you,” she accused, pointing a finger at me. 

I ignored her comment. Pointedly I yanked my cane from her hands and brushed bits of fiber off myself. “That was incredibly stupid of you.”

“What?” Her smile fell, and she looked annoyed. “You mean that prank I pulled on you?” 

“Yes.”

“I was only joking-” 

“It wasn’t funny,” I snapped angrily. 

She watched me, remorse dimming her smile’s light. “Forgive me. I only meant to joke.” 

“Meiyu, you could have died.” 

Her face softened a bit when I said her name for the first time. “I knew what I was doing, Kaz. But…I should not have teased you like that,” she admitted seriously. Her face brightened again. “You know, your concern for me was very sweet,” she declared. “I shall miss you very much!” 

I straightened my gloves and glared daggers at her. “I am very, very close to killing you right now.” I was dead serious. 

“I know,” she said casually. 

I fought back a small smile. “Do you cross this every day?” 

She nodded. “I told you to use the rope because the wood is too weak. It would have broken under your weight.” 

“Why the cable?” 

“It would take too much time and energy to maintain all the bridges. These work well enough for us,” she shrugged. She patted the worn cable affectionately. “This one is not used anymore. It is old compared to the others. The new ones have proper metal cages you can stand in. Those are boring, though. So slow. You have to pull yourself along!” 

“So…” I surmised blandly, “You made me use the most dangerous one?” 

She winked. “You do not seem the type to go for the easy path.” Her voice was soft. “That is why I like you, Kaz Brekker.” 

…

My eyes crept open. 

I felt her 

I rolled over and looked at Meiyu’s sleeping form in bed next to me. She was so thin. Wrist bones jutted out from slender, bird-like arms. Her hair glowed with silver streaks in the dim light. Alive, but sick. Weakened in a way she might never recover from. 

Because of me. 

Fear and something much, much worse crept sluggishly through me. 

I promptly shoved it down. 

She was curled inwards, shivering, and I saw the blanket had slid off of her. 

I carefully eased the thick wool back over her. 

She relaxed. 

I looked down at her and thought about the young girl who had once laughed without restraint and reached out to a stranger; who defended herself with deadly magic and playful sarcasm. Her spirit was like the river that ran along her village. 

“That’s why I like you, too,” I murmured. 

Her eyes fluttered open, and she looked at me through a haze of sleep. 

I froze. 

She blinked groggily. “Kaz? What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing.” I said softly. Too quickly. 

She looked at me curiously and slowly reached a single hand out, waiting for me. 

Most times I would ignore it; but just this once, I slid my gloved hand in hers. 

”I’m glad it was you,” she whispered. 

We looked at each other for a span of a few heartbeats. 

A strange feeling crept into me and I had to look away.

She smiled faintly, drawing her hand back to tug the blanket around her. “Goodnight, husband,” she murmured. Her eyelids drifted close, and she was calm again, no longer shivering. 

I shuffled back and laid down next to her, staring at the ceiling, mind too full to sleep. 

…


	30. Morning and Night

“Kaz.” Fingers hovered over my arm. “Are you awake?”

“I’m awake.” My eyes were firmly closed. “You stole all the blankets last night.” 

The nest of blankets she had burrowed into muffled her voice. “I need them more than you.“ 

I pried my eyes open and turned my head. “So I can’t be cold?” 

“You’ll survive,” she grunted. A hand emerged from the depths to wave me away. “Alright, you can go now.” 

I leaned over to grab my cane, pushing myself up. “Very gracious, Meiyu.” 

She emerged from the depths of the rumpled blankets to roll over and smile, eyes heavy and full of sleep. “I should get up, shouldn’t I?” 

“Probably.” 

“Ai….But I’m so tired…” Her head dropped and she shoved her long hair back; it spilled down over her shoulders like a river of ink. My eyes traced the path it cut across her slim form; sometimes I forgot how long it was- it was so rare to see it down. 

I smirked at her sluggish movement. “It’s late, Meiyu.” 

“I know,” she mumbled, yawning. Her eyes slid shut and she slumped back down onto the bed, arms and hair askew. 

I pulled my coat on without looking at her. “You were awake for about thirty seconds, and you’re already fallen back asleep?” I glanced out the window. “Half the day’s gone. I would’ve thought you’d…” I turned to her, a small smile tugging at my lips, and the warmth was sucked out of the room. 

She wasn’t moving. 

I stopped smiling. “Meiyu?” 

Nothing about this seemed right.

“Meiyu.” I knelt in front of her snapped in front of her face. She hated when I did that; yet no hand came to bat me away. I took hold of her arm and gently shook her. “Meiyu. Can you hear me?” This time I shook her hard enough to jostle her. “Meiyu. Wake up.” 

She lay there with her eyes closed, still as death. 

I swore through my teeth when I couldn’t find her pulse. I couldn’t tell if she was breathing. 

I couldn’t tell if I was breathing. 

Blood healing has always been fatal. 

I stared down at her as shock, not nausea, rose in me like the waters. 

There was no way. No way. We were just talking. Seconds ago. She was alive. She was fine. For fuck’s sake- it couldn’t end like this. Meiyu wouldn’t die like this. Not so fast. So silently. She was so loud. Her life was so impossibly loud. 

“Wake up!” I shook her as hard as I dared. “Meiyu, wake up!” I half growled, half shouted. 

I wasn’t sure what I’d do if she didn’t. 

Without warning her eyes fluttered opened. “Kaz?” 

I closed my eyes for a brief moment and felt the mindless fear lessen just enough for me to breathe out deep and slow. 

“Kaz?” She sat up. “What is it?” She was concerned. Confused. 

Every part of remained clenched tight as I sat back. If I were like Inej- if I believed that Saints guided us- I would have cursed them for making me think for one second that I had lost her, too. 

I imagine they laughed at me. 

Fury and helplessness roiled in my gut. “Were you trying to do that?” I demanded. 

“Do what?” she asked blankly. 

My teeth ground together.

Bewildered, her brow furrowed. “You’re angry.” 

“I’m not angry. I’m pissed off!” 

“Why?” she exclaimed. 

“I…” Once again, words failed me. “Never mind!” I snarled. 

“Don’t ‘never mind’ me!” she barked. “Why are you so upset?” 

“Because you have no idea what that did to me.” It flew out of my treacherous mouth before I could cram the loaded, dangerous words back in. 

Spluttering, she threw her hands up in surrender. “Bu’tingdong-a! What did I do?” 

“If you don’t know, then I’m not going to waste my time explaining it to you.” We were nose to nose before I even realized she had gotten out of bed. I readied myself for the argument that was sure to come. For the chaos I was about to throw myself into- headfirst. 

“Do not,” she hissed as her index finger poked a hole through my chest, “treat me like an idiot!” 

I grabbed her hand and shoved it away. “Don’t push me, Meiyu,” I warned. 

“Why are you being such an asshole?” 

“Why can’t you act like an adult?” 

“How dare you-!” 

“Stop yelling.”

“I’m not!”

“Yes, you are.” 

Her hands flew to her hips. “Well, ni zao shen’me?”

“What?” I asked sarcastically. 

“I’m your wife, so I can be AS LOUD AS I WANT!!!” she shouted at the top of her lungs. 

“You-“ I wanted to pull my hair out by the roots and cover my ears at the same time. “What the hell’s wrong with you!” 

She gaped. “You’re asking me?” 

The door opened a crack, and a slice of Naj’s hair appeared. “What is going-“

“OUT!” Meiyu and I both bellowed. 

“Ghenzen’s as-” 

Meiyu flung her magic at the door. 

It slammed shut with a colossal bang. 

The door locked for good measure. 

We turned back to each other, practically breathing fire. 

Meiyu tilted her chin up. “Kaz.” 

“Yes?”

“May I say something?” 

“No.” 

Her eyes flared white-gold. “Kaz, I’m… confused.” Beseeching, she turned her hands up. “I don’t understand what I did to make you so angry!” 

I fisted the head of my cane in a death grip. 

“I dozed off- at least, I thought I did.” Her eyes searched my face. “What happened?”

I didn’t know how to answer. 

What happened? I thought. Nothing. Nothing happened. 

Except what happened wasn’t nothing. 

“Saints, Kaz- why can’t you ever be honest with m-” 

“You did fall asleep.” 

Her eyebrows went up. “And?” 

“You fell asleep, but you wouldn’t wake up,” I said stiffly. There was a distinct and growing feeling of being backed into a corner. I didn’t like it. 

“That’s it?” Her mouth twitched, and it infuriated me that she was smiling- laughing- at what I was saying. “Kaz, I lost years of my life yester-“ 

“You want honesty?” I snapped, unable to contain my icy rage. “I thought you had died.”

She paled at whatever she saw in me. “Kaz-” 

I had shoved myself away and out the door in three brutal strides before she could say much more. 

…

It was much later in the day- evening- by the time I came back home. The house was near silent: dark throughout, save a single source of light that spilled across the floor, and a single voice singing softly in Shu- years of her constantly speaking it around Naj meant that I could understand the lyrics fairly well. Ballads and drinking songs and Shu folk songs and wordless tunes sung in the worst part of the Barrel; it was always her voice filling up the empty silences. 

“Yellow bird  
Up, high in the apple tree.

Yellow bird,   
You sit all alone like me…” 

A muted snip-snip echoed through the quiet. 

I almost smiled when I realized: a haircut. She had finally roped Naj into a haircut. Saints- he must have fought her every inch of the way. 

“Did your lady friend,  
Leave the nest again?

That is very bad,  
Makes me feel so sad

So you’ll fly away   
In the sky away   
You’re more lucky than me.” 

I heard Meiyu nudge Naj without seeing it. “Changge gen wo, Naji, xingan.” 

As the snip of the shears started anew, she sang while Naj hummed with her, harmonizing, like he did when he was a child. Meiyu’s voice rose above his: sweet and clear as rain. 

“Wish that I was   
A yellow bird  
I’d fly away with you

But I am not   
A yellow bird

So I’ll sit…Nothing else to do.” 

I heard her chuckle. 

A rearranging of limbs made their clothing rustle. The scraping of a chair as someone rose to his or her feet. Hands brushed along fabric. Dusting them off. 

“You never sing anymore, Naji.” 

“I don’t sing,” he snorted. 

“Naji…” 

“Could you not call me that, Ma?”

“Well, I could call you sweetie-“

“Ma-“

“Or ‘dumpling’-“

“Stop-“

“Or…” laughter crept into her, ‘pumpkin’-“ 

“Ma. Enough.”

“Alright! Sorry, Nadir.” Amusement and affection rang in her words. “Kan’yixia, then.”

An object- I assumed a mirror- was passed from hand to hand. 

“Well? Hao buhao?” 

Naj’s voice was dry as it was rueful. “It’s…short.”

She chuckled. I could almost see her grin. “That was the idea, xingan.”

“I didn’t think I’d get sheared like a sheep!”

I stepped into the light just as she sighed in exasperation. 

“Hi, Da.” Naj ran a hand through his much-shorter hair and glanced my way. A smile tugged his lips. He looked older. Much older. Where had the years gone?

Meiyu immediately stopped laughing as she honed in on the tiny, ragged-looking plant cradled my hands. “Please tell me you didn’t steal that from someone’s garden.” 

I kept my face perfectly neutral. “You always assume the worst.” 

“That’s because it’s you, dear.” 

“You stole it, didn’t you?” Naj said without looking up. 

“I like to call it ‘borrowing for an unnamed time’.” 

Naj gave me that piercing look, and I saw Inej. “So, you stole it?” 

“Yes.” 

“Kaz!” Meiyu scolded. 

I smirked. “They won’t miss it, Meiyu.” 

“You’re a chronic liar, my love. I don’t trust a word out of your mouth.” 

“Fair enough.” 

Naj rolled his eyes. “Alright, I’m going to bed.” He gave each of us a half-hearted hug before trudging up the stairs to his room. 

“Wan’an, Naji!” Meiyu called. 

He grumbled at her pet name for him. 

We watched him go with quiet affection. 

I offered the plant to her. 

“What is it?” Suspicious, she took it from me. “Hemlock? Poison ivy?” 

“Leaves of three, Meiyu.” 

“That still means absolutely nothing to me,” she mumbled, squinting at the tiny leaves. 

Her magic flowed from her fingers and wrapped around the sprout, infusing it with golden light, filling it from within until the veins glowed white. We watched as the smallest inner leaves unfurled and spread, growing up towards the ceiling and lengthening, widening, until the dark glossy green tapered off into rounded arrowheads. White flowers burst open like stars and turned to hard green nubs, which swelled and flushed a bloody red. The shriveled, misshapen Dragon Heart peppers grew heavy on the stems, weighing it down, and in the span of a few seconds, a full-grown plant sat happily in her hands, its roots draping down through her fingers in a tangled mass. 

“Peppers!” she exclaimed happily. 

“Yes, I know.”

She looked at me under her brows. “Shh. Let me enjoy this.” 

I inclined my head to the full-grown plant. “That was fast.” 

“It was, wasn’t it?” Her eyelids drooped. Dark rings circled her eyes, and she began to list to the side, yawning. “I shouldn’t have done that…” 

“I was hoping you would just let it grow naturally instead of straining yourself this way.” 

“This is nothing. Imagine…” Another enormous yawn. “A whole field… of wheat…” 

“They must miss you.” 

Her sleepiness evaporated. “I have been gone too long.” Responsibility weighed heavily on her. 

I knew she must be some sort of leader among her people; you could see it in the way she held herself: far too proudly for a common peasant. Her knowledge of military tactics was too good; her skill in political maneuvering too deft. She wielded her wit and charm with the deliberateness of a scalpel or a pin: picking the lock’s of men’s hearts so cunningly that they surrendered their secrets to her in exchange for a single smile. And despite the fact that she was a woman, she had managed to command more authority in a single word than most Barrel bosses did in a single gunshot. 

But she never spoke of it; she never gave us any chance to even wonder. 

As always, she protected her people with her silence. 

So fast as it came, the shadow passed, and light returned. She wrapped the plant in a globe of her magic and let it float there like some strange lantern. The length of her hair glinted silver in the moonlight and gold in the candlelight. Suddenly, she looked around at me, and smiled. 

I didn’t know how I could ever deserve a smile like that again. 

“You got me a plant.” Her eyes were warm honey and sunlight. “A pepper.”

“You said you hated flowers,” I replied, deadpan. 

Her smile widened. 

It made my mouth loosen enough to add, “You also love food.”

“I do.” Those dancer’s feet carried her close to me; close enough to count the strands of silver that ran through her dark hair. Only if you want to, she said. 

I braced myself, but I didn’t turn away. 

She leaned in close and touched her lips to my cheek. It sent a ripple through me; a stone dropping into a pond. The water lapped against my feet before sinking back. “Thank you,” she said. “Ni rang wo kai’xin.” 

You’ve made me happy. 

I nodded once. 

She stepped around me, hands cupping the plant, and walked back to our room. 

I followed behind, cane tapping along the floorboards. 

She gently laid the plant to rest in a dirt-filled pot near the window with the others. 

I hung my coat on the chair. 

She unwound her hair and plaited it into a long braid. 

I pulled off my tie and my shirt. 

She brushed her teeth over the small basin.

I washed myself. 

She leaned my cane up in its normal spot. 

I put out on a new shirt and put out the light. 

We both settled on our opposite sides of the bed. 

“I’m sorry I laughed,” she said to the ceiling. “I didn’t mean to.” 

“I know.”

“Really.” The sheet rustled as she flopped on her side and looked at me sarcastically. “You seemed pretty pissed to me.” 

I found myself restraining a smile. 

“What?” she said, totally unaware of what she looked like. Her hand twitched upwards self-consciously. “Do I have something on my face?” 

“Your eyes glow in the dark.” 

“Oh.” She shrugged. “I’ve been dampening them ever since I can remember.” 

“You look like an owl.” 

The twin lights narrowed into beady slits. 

“I find that rather unnerving.” 

The lights dimmed as her eyes slid away. “Sorry,” she offered.

I stared at the hazy lines of her face, and then at the lights that were her eyes. “I was going to come back,” I said abruptly. Needing her to know. 

The golden lights turned back. They didn’t blink. 

“I wouldn’t leave you.” I spoke to the dark. 

Her hand slipped into mine and squeezed once. 

I went back to staring at the black. 

She was quiet for a long time. 

Exhaustion began to blur my thoughts together. 

“I don’t want to die, Kaz,” she admitted. “Not anymore.” 

Her bleak confession hung in the air between us like a noose. 

I sat up to see feel her staring at me. “You’re not going to,” I told her. 

The ice of her fingers tightened around mine. “Everyone dies, Kaz. Even me.” 

I willed my voice to remain unaltered as I continued, “You’re not going to die for a long, long time.” For her sake, and mine, I found it in myself to smirk. “You need to beat me in poker first.” 

I saw enough of her to see she smiled. “How can I? You cheat! I know you do,” she mumbled. 

“Meiyu?”

“Hm?” 

“Go to sleep.” I drank in the light of her owl-eyes. “You need it.”

The lights already flickering with each drowsy blink. “Oh, fine. Wan’an, Kaz.” 

“Wan’an.” 


	31. The Story of the People

“Ma?”

“Yes, xingan?”

“Could you tell me about them?”

“Who?”

“The People, Ma. Your family.”

“Ah…Well, you’re old enough now- but I can only tell you what my grandmother told me, and what her mother told her, and what all of us have been told, as far back as we can remember…”  
…

_“Once upon a time, when legends were just called life, Serpents ruled the wild green lands across the Great Grey Sea. The magic that flowed within their veins was strong, for they had lived in lands East for nigh ten thousand years._

_And when the time of Man came, he settled on it and called it: Shu Han._

_Man and the Serpents were in constant war with one another, for the Serpents saw Man as defilers of their ancestral lands, and Man saw the Serpents as little more than beasts to be exterminated; the Serpents destroyed Man’s villages with fury and flame, and Man butchered the Serpents for their meat and their magic._

_A bloody war raged between these two people until a young Serpent, the daughter of the Matriarch, took human form in order to make peace with Man. As a show of good faith, The Serpent married the son of a great warlord, and for many years, life was good._

_But as the world grew old, Man forgot his ancient pact with the Serpents; he forgot the People were people. So one terrible day, the Serpent’s youngest daughter, Moon Maiden, was ambushed and killed by a lone hunter, along with her human mate, Fisherman._

_Heartbroken and furious, her brothers and sisters swore vengeance in the name of their kin, and though they made the ground run red with Man’s blood, they were no match for him, for he was a creature of great and terrible power. One by one, year by year, the Children were lost to the knife and the bullet until only a handful remained. Desperate and bitter, The Last of the People retreated to the highest peaks of the Spine, vowing to turn their backs on the outside world, and Man’s cruelties…Forever.”_  
…

“…But you left them, Ma?”

“…Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because, we are The Last, xingan. The very last. We may be dragons, but even dragons must learn: The Last cannot hold onto pride, or fear, and expect to live.”


	32. Royalty (Year 9)

Kaz stomped in, covered in grime from head to toe and looking like he had gone through a shredder. 

“What the hell happened to you?” I called, barely looking up from the ledger book. 

He shot me daggers with his eyes. “I think I might have just met that cousin of yours.”

I raised my head. “Which one? They’re all dead.” Then, “Oh…do you mean Mingzhu?” 

“Yes.” 

I grimaced in sympathy. “Ah. Well, don’t take it personally. She hates me too.” 

“I’m starting to see a pattern in your family.” 

“All Cursemaker’s are related in some shape or form; if I remember right, we shared the same great, great, great, great grandmother at some time or another. Truly, though I’ve never met anyone who can throw a tantrum like she can.” I went back to balancing the accounts. “I’m just grateful that the Saints only made her a minor Cursemaker.” 

“Likewise.” His eyes drilled into mine. “How many of you are there? I’d like to know before I have to deal with another one of those again.” 

I shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t know. There are very few us left. My mother’s bloodline can be traced back to the first Cursemaker Queen, and since my whole family is dead and my daughters were born blessedly human, I am considered the last of her line.”

Something like understanding flit across his face. “So you’re… royalty?”

“Queen Regent.” I forced a smile at his incredulous face. “Congratulations, Kaz. You married up. Nikolai would approve.” 

His eyebrows furrowed. “Nikolai?” he repeated slowly. 

I cringed at my slip-up. 

“Nikolai Lanstov, King of Ravka. Sturmhond?” 

I wrinkled my nose. “Is he still going by that?” 

Kaz made a noise of disbelief as he began to unbutton his shirt. “How well do you know him exactly?” 

“Better than you think.” 

Kaz’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Very well, then.” 

“He, ah…” I chuckled sheepishly. “I fought for him in the war. We were… friends.”

“’Friends’,” Kaz quoted. 

“Well, he proposed to me. Twice.”

His face turned thunderous. “I see.” 

I was beginning to enjoy this. “He was very diplomatic about the whole thing, if not a tad…theatrical,” I smirked, “but really, it was entirely a business deal. According to him, as a Shu Queen our union could form ‘a bridge between neighboring countries and save many lives’.” 

“Knowing him, that can’t have been all he said.”

“Oh, no.” I pressed my lips together, barely holding back my laughter. “He also said we would have gorgeous children if we married, with his looks and my beauty. I was far from impressed.” 

Kaz looked like he had swallowed a lemon whole. 

I watched in quiet amusement as he yanked his ruined shirt off and proceeded to dunk the rag into the water and wring it out like it was personally offensive to him. “Oh, I did help him with the war: I made a deal with him that I would aid his forces and eliminate the threat along the western Ravkan/Fjerda border- permanently- if he opened Ravkan’s borders to a small percent of incoming refugees and their children-“

“-That was you?” Kaz stared at me like he had never seen me before, rag forgotten. 

“As a matter of fact, yes.” 

“That makes sense that it was you, not the emperor, who pulled that off.” 

I scowled to myself. “The emperor of Shu Han is a glorified puppet who can barely wipe his own ass without the Guards’ say. Ravkans already hate the Shu because of how we treat our Grisha; it took me weeks of needling to negotiate a decent plan. Weeks and thousands of lives.”

“The Ravkans resent your refugees,” Kaz pointed out. 

“Oh, they hate them. Ravka was up to its ears in debt, but how do you think they’ve been able to rebuild so quickly? Who do you think does the worst jobs for the lowest pay? And where do you think they put us?” I paused. “The refugee camps are… harsh, yes- but for most of the people, anything’s better than being in Shu Han.” 

“I think even the Ravkans can sympathize with the Shu when it comes to total war.”

I snorted. “I only wish they’d get it through their heads that the Grisha could make gold out of straw, and none of us would give a shit!” I was far from laughing now. “The war was systematic genocide, and I was very clear that I represented the people during the negotiations with Nikolai, not our emperor.” 

“You always were better at making people like you than me,” he said dryly. 

I smiled without teeth. “You may destroy me in poker, but I, dear husband, am much more skilled in the art of ass-kissing than you.” 

He looked close to laughter. “I’m sure the nobles loved that sense of humor.” 

“Oh, most of them thought I seduced Nikolai.” I smirked. “It never occurred to them that I used my brain and to talked to him.” 

“So.” He turned to me. “Would the correct way to address you be, ‘your highness’ since you’re a queen?” he asked, mocking thick in his tone. 

“Not exactly.” I made sure to keep my face perfectly straight as I thought. “Actually, my full title is, ‘Meiyu of An’Lin, First-born Descendant of the Most Ancient House of Phoenixes: Queen of Dragons; Lady of the Spine; the Moon-sea Serpent; Sword of her People; Shield of the Last.” 

“You can’t be serious.”

I chuckled at his expression. “It’s a mouthful, I know, but in Dragon Tongue it sounds like,” I made a series of glottal hisses and growls, enjoying how the harsh, guttural sounds of my title rolled off my tongue like water. 

His mouth opened furiously and then shut. 

I winked at him. “Don’t worry, Love. You can just call me, ‘your grace’.” 

He went back to washing himself, wholly without words. 

I shrugged, taking no small amount of pleasure in seeing Kaz rendered speechless. 

“Why did you stop being Queen?” 

I glanced at him and smiled. “Who says I have?”

“You’re here, raising our son and working with me, instead of your people. Why?” 

I thought on his question, and it was easy to answer without telling the whole truth. “Well, there are many other leaders besides me, for one,” I said. “More experienced. Less murderous.”

His mouth twitched. 

Nikolai is doing all he can in Ravka, but you could do more in Kerch. You’re the face of this city. You understand how to get what you want from people; you understand survival. You gave me freedom through a Kerch marriage, and you were the one man in the world who would not touch me. Why do you think I moved to Ketterdam? Why do you think I let Kuwei find me?” I cracked my neck. “I had decided to align myself with you long before we married. I knew exactly what I was getting into by marrying you…until Naj showed up, that is.” 

“Impressive,” was all he said. 

“I know how to play the game, Kaz. But…I think I wanted to do all I could before I died,” I admitted. “The big, the small, and every little thing in between.” I smiled at him. “Ni’zao?” 

Kaz looked at me for a long time. “I think so.” 

“Anyways.” I waved my hand. “He didn’t know I was barren by choice, but that was my business, not his. What I did tell him was: “’No ring, no flowers, no marriage.’” I grinned. “But Saints, I just about laughed myself hoarse when he presented me the bouquet the second time-“ 

“Bouquet?” 

“Twelve red roses and a silver ring set with the finest Zemeni blood rubies. ‘For a lovely lady who could kill us all,’” I quoted. “It was like a scene from a bad romance novel.” 

He scrubbed himself with jerky, irritated movements. “Ridiculous.” 

“You know, I really did like the ring- even if it was far too rich for my blood,” I rambled. “Too bad I hate roses…” 

“Could you stop talking? It’s pissing me off.”

“Alright! Ghezen, you’re in a bad mood today,” I muttered. 

“Remember when you barely spoke to me because your Kerch was so bad?” 

“Dui?” 

“I miss those times.” 

I hurled the pen at him like a knife, and he caught it with one hand, dropping it pointedly on the ground. “Predictable as ever.” 

I flicked my fingers and a tendril of my magic reeled the pen back over to me. “It was worth a try.” I tapped the pen back on the paper to get the ink running. “Don’t tell me that after all these years of cool indifference you’re jealous? Of Nikolai.”

He shot me a surly look. “Do I look like a lovesick boy to you?” 

“Far from it,” I snorted, scowling. “Sometimes I think if a man waltzed in, here and now, and tried to seduce me, all you’d do is tell us not to make too much noise while we’re at it!” 

“If that happens I won’t hesitate to shoot the bastard,” he ground out. “Multiple times.” The rag was yanked back up again to continue its task. 

I smiled my best shit-eating smile. 

“Meiyu…” he warned. 

“Hm?”

“Not one word.” 

I drummed my fingers. “…It really bothers you, doesn’t it?” I edged cheerfully. 

“What?” 

“You can’t stand it when I smile at other men. Or flirt with them for information.” 

“It’s revolting to witness.” 

A sly smile crept across my face. “You know, you don’t have to look…” 

The rag slapped down into the water. “You can do whatever you like. Flirt with them, kiss them, bed them- I don’t care- if it gets the job done, fine.” 

“Alright…” I traced a finger along the edge of the desk, “so, if for some reason, I need to ask Nikolai for a favor-” 

“Absolutely not,” he snarled, looking downright murderous. 

“Ha! Ha! You are jealous!” I exclaimed triumphantly. (Thinking back, Kaz did always seem to be in a foul mood after I made eyes at another man for information. But he almost always was in a foul mood, so how could I tell?) I leaned back, grinning contentedly. “You have no idea how happy that makes me,” I chortled. 

“I don’t know what possessed me to marry you.”

“I love you too, dearest,” I said sweetly. 

The sound that came out of him could only be described as a growl.

“I feel for you, I really do.” I chuckled. “First Weisheng, now Nikolai…” 

“You’re exhausting as you are immature.” 

I heaved a melodramatic sigh. “I know.” Quickly, I looked around as if what I was about to divulge was some great secret before leaning towards him, palms flat against the table. “Don’t worry, my love- my heart is forever yours!” I whispered confidentially. 

He looked at me like I was a leper who had just vomited on his shoes. 

Solemn as can be, I placed my hand on my heart and gave him my most sincere smile. “I swear on my mother’s grave, I have eyes for only you,” I vowed. 

“Stop talking before I do something stupid like strangle you.” 

I had to fight to keep from laughing. “As you wish…” 

His surly look only deepened as I winked. 

“This conversation has become an incredibly useless waste of time,” he snapped waspishly, wringing out the dirtied water. 

“Very well.” I opened up the ledger book and found my spot. “But I will point out, Kaz, that your proposal was very much like Nikolai’s!” I held up my hand to his furious expression. “Minus the flowers and tacky sonnet. No, your proposal much more to my liking: short and to the point.” 

He looked like his teeth were in great danger of being ground to dust. “Sturm-Nikolai, may be smart, but he can be a vain, pompous ass at the best of times.” 

I glanced up pointedly. “For all of his airs, he’s a good man.” I added up the column and quickly jotted down the total, flipping to the next page. “And he did help find Inej’s parents for you, so he can’t be...” 

The scrubbing stopped. 

I swallowed, my laughter evaporating. 

Kaz tossed the rag back in the bowl and pull a new clean shirt on and button robotically. 

I pushed my hair back like I always did, inhaling when another clump pulled away from my scalp like wool being carded. 

The hair fell from my fingers, greyer than ever. 

Kaz watched it fall, fingers suspended over the button. “It’s worse, isn’t it?”

I nodded, absentmindedly reaching for my pain medicine and popping a couple of pills into my mouth. The taste was sweet. Cloying. I grimaced and quickly downed gulp of water from the glass on my desk to wash the chalkiness from my mouth. 

“You’re taking too many, Meiyu.” 

I looked at him over the rim of the glass, my good humor all but gone. “It’s either this, or I spend the rest of the day with a splitting headache.” 

He didn’t respond. All he did was push the last button through the hole and study the small white pills piled in the tin, his face troubled. 

I closed the medicine tin with a snap. “I’m not an addict, Kaz.” 

His grim expression didn’t change. “Taking that many three times a day will make you one if you don’t stop.” 

“I know what I’m doing.” I took one last gulp of water, and the glass came down with a sharp rap. “I’m a grown woman, Kaz. Don’t lecture me.” 

“I don’t want to see you become so tied to your drugs you can’t let them go.” 

“Well, I’d rather not spend the rest of my life in pain!” I retorted. “I’m choosing to take these so I can continue to function. I can’t afford to go without.” 

“There are other ways to handle the pain,” he countered quietly. 

“This isn’t just pain, and you know it,” I said, my words blunt as stones. “There is no doctor in the world who cure what I have.” 

Something that resembled pain flashed across his face, but it was gone in an instant. 

We both avoided looking at the hair on the floor. At what that hair meant. 

He let out a breath, resigned. “Just… be careful.”

“I am.” I rubbed my wrist, the pain a dull throb today. “I know what addiction feels like, and that’s not going to happen again.” 

His hand rested over mine, stopping my nervous movements. 

I froze. 

“You know what it feels like, but I don’t know if you realize when it starts.” 

I yanked my hand away as if I’d been burned. “Don’t.” 

He watched me, a frown hovering over his face. “You’re sick,” he said quietly. His eyes skimmed down my body. “You haven’t been eating enough.” 

I drew back, defensive. “Stop looking at me like that. I’m fine,” I insisted. I picked up the ledger book and flipped through the pages to find my spot, doing my best to ignore his piercing gaze. 

It didn’t work. 

Kaz’s frown morphed into a frustrated scowl. “You’re not fine.” 

My eyes darted away. 

“You’re so thin,” he said, almost to himself. 

“I’m a dancer. That’s what we’re supposed to be.” 

A muscle in his jaw jumped. “I hear you hurling your guts up in the middle of the night.”

“That was unusual,” I said tightly. 

The sound of his cane hitting the ground made me jump. “Ghezen, Meiyu! Stop making excuses!” 

I opened my mouth to protest, but his next words rendered me mute. 

“You’re so tired, some days you can barely keep your eyes open,” he forced out, “and every time you nod off, I’m afraid you’re never going to wake up!” 

I sank down in myself. 

Dirtyhands never admitted to being afraid. 

I bowed my head. “I’m sorry, Kaz.” 

Kaz lowered himself down into the seat, hissing slightly as he extended his bad leg out. He didn’t look at me when he finally spoke. “I meant what I said, before,” he said, voice monotone. “I can’t lose you, too.” 

I knew what it took for someone like him to admit something like that. I swallowed past the tightness in my throat and walked around the desk. He looked over at me as my hand fluttered up, an inch at a time, before it came to rest on his shoulder. “You shouldn’t worry about me, my love,” I murmured. “I’m alright.” 

His gloved hand slipped into my bare one. 

We stared at each other for a long, long time. 

I watched, unblinking, as he raised my hand to brush his lips against my knuckles. 

Warmth rolled out from them, climbing up my arm; spreading through me like an afternoon soaking in the spring sunlight after the long chill of winter. It was so rare for him to reach out to me in such a way- and though I loved him, I wished I had the nerve to ask for more. 

But dragons do not beg. 

Not even for the sake of our own happiness. 

Perhaps it was weakness to love such a man, I thought, but sometimes, weakness lets us remember that we are human. After all: we all become the same under its light. It enslaves us and frees us, all at once. It touches those who cannot bear to be touched. 

I bent down with great care and kissed his thin cheek. “Bie fang zai xin shang, qinaid’de,” I said steadily. “Tai duo’le.” 

I knew he understood what I said. 

He let out a harsh breath as his fingers tightened around mine. “Let someone help you.” 

I let go of his hand. “I don’t need help.” 

“Don’t be an idiot, Meiyu,” he snapped. Anger and a hint of genuine desperation roughened his voice into a growl. 

Slowly, I walked back around to the other side of the desk and sat down; I looked down at the numbers, my stomach churning from the medicine. Taking it without food was a mistake. “Are they still coming tomorrow?”

He knew as well as I that I was changing the subject. We were very good at that. “Yes.” 

“And do they know who I am? To Naj?”

“No. They still believe that you’re a good friend who works for me and watches Naj once in a while, nothing more.” 

I sighed under my breath. “Good.” My pen tapped nervously, and I forced myself to stop. “Good.” 

Kaz’s glower faded. “I think that after all this time, they suspect who you really are.”

“I pray to everything they don’t,” I said lowly. 

He picked up his cane. “That was years ago, Meiyu.”

I shook my head. “Things don’t change that much.” I picked up the pen and bent over the papers. “Better they not know. Better they continue to think I’m just a good friend. Let them have a piece of her that hasn’t been sullied by me.” 

“They’re good people, Meiyu.” 

I continued writing, and I didn’t look up. “Which is why I’m not going to destroy this for them.”

“They can handle the truth.” 

“But is the truth they want?” My fingers tightened on the pen, denting it. “How would they feel if they knew the beloved child of their only daughter child calls a monster ‘mother’ over his own flesh and blood? That no matter how many stories he hears or how many people tell him about her, I’m here and she’s not?” 

“Naj is getting older, and it’s getting harder to explain why he has to lie about you.”

I forced my voice to remain steady. “Oh?” 

“You’ve been trying to hide this for a long time, but the longer things go, the less likely it is that you’re ‘just a friend’.” He leaned on his cane. “Think: I’m what most see as a widow. So are you. We’ve worked very closely with each other for almost a decade. We ‘just happen’ to live in the same house and I trust you with my son, who ‘just happens’ to favor your company over all of my other Crows.” 

My stomach dropped at his ironic tone. 

“You also ‘just happen’ to call him sweetheart in Shu, and if anyone took the time to notice, they’d realize Naj can speak and understand common Shu almost perfectly, which only comes from being raised with it starting from a young age. You’re one of the deadliest people in this world, but when Inej’s parents come to see him, you’re more than uncomfortable around them- you’re nervous. Nervous, and ashamed- not of him, though- of yourself.”

I looked down, pale. Every word was a small push, edging me closer to the pit I had inevitable dug for myself. 

“Which poses the question: why would someone like you react this way if we were merely business partners?” 

I tried to smile. “Have I been that obvious?” 

“No. To anyone watching, you’re just a very close friend, same as Nina. But to them… Well. They don’t see much of us, but what they do see is more than they let on.” 

I pressed my fingers into my forehead. “Shit.” 

He hung the rag on the hook to dry. “He told them, Meiyu.” 

The pen snapped between my fingers, spattering ink everywhere. “Shenme?” 

“I thought I might as well tell you, since they’re coming tomorrow.”

I calmly did my best to wipe the paper free of ink while my stomach did summersaults. Slowly, I turned my eyes to the ceiling and glared holes into it. “Nadir Jordan Brekker! You come down here, right now!” I shouted. 

I could almost hear him cringe. “Now?” 

“Yes, now!” 

“Alright…” 

He didn’t move. 

I stood up and walked directly under where I knew he lay on his bed. “Nadir! Lai! Wo zao ni hui ting wo! Don’t make me say it again!” 

Steps crept across the floorboard. 

“Kuai kuai kuai!” I barked. “Ni you liangge jiao, bu zuo mande!” 

The steps only became slightly faster as they descended down the stairs. 

I faced Kaz and crossed my arms. “I blame you,” I growled in Shu. 

“Me?”

I threw up my hands. “Yes, you! I asked you to do one thing- one thing- and-no, don’t give me that look! I knew something like this would happen! I knew it!” I shoved my veil away from my face. “I’m not going back, Kaz! I’m won’t. I can’t.” 

“Meiyu, calm down.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down!”

“You’re panicking.” 

“Of course I’m panicking!” I hissed as quietly as I could. “Our marriage is anything but legal!”

“This is Ketterdam. Nothing is legal.” 

“This isn’t a fucking joke, Kaz! You know what could happen if-“

“What could happen?” 

I clamped my mouth shut and turned my gaze on my son. “Nadir. Did you tell your grandparents about me? After I specifically told you not to?” I said flatly. 

His mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. Then, finally, “Yes.” 

“Naj! Ni zenme neng? Ni zenme?” I burst out. 

“I…” 

Kaz stepped closer to me. “Meiyu, you don’t have to yell.” 

“I’m, not, yelling,” I replied stiffly. 

Naj stared at his feet. “Duibuqi, mama.” 

I dropped into the seat and rubbed my temples. “Ai…” 

Naj crossed his arms, scowling. “Weishenme zheme nanguo, mama?” 

“Weishenme? Yinwei wo gaosu ni bu zuo!” 

“But it’s so stupid!” 

I shot to my feet, and he took the tiniest step back. “Don’t you use that insolent tone with me, Nadir!” I growled. “I will not be disrespected.”

He growled back. “I’m not trying to disrespect you! Ghezen!” 

“Guole!” I jabbed a finger at him. “You shape up- or so help me, I will put you in the ground!” 

Kaz’s eyebrows shot up. 

Naj only rolled his eyes. “Sure you will.” 

I reached over and smacked the back of his head. 

“Ai! That hurt!” He rubbed his head, scowling darkly at me. 

“You’re fine, I barely scratched you” I groused. “Saints. When I was a child my mother would have beaten the stuffing out of me for speaking to her in such a way!” I muttered in Shu. I glowered at Kaz. “Thanks for the backup, dear.”

“I was trying to stay neutral on this, because I value my head.” He polished the head of his cane. “But in my opinion, it was only a matter of time before they knew. Better the truth come from Naj than, say, a customs official.” 

“Why am I always on the losing side of the fight?” I half moaned, half shouted to the air. 

“Why is this such a big deal? Why are you so mad?” 

I whirled back on him, and he cringed the slightest bit. “Yinwei, ni zao weishengme wo gaosu le ni buyao gaosu tamen!” 

Kaz watched us argue, trying to keep up with the Shu. 

“Mother, this is Grandma and Grandda! Do you really think they’d be that awful?” 

“No,” I snapped. “They seem like wonderful people.” 

“Then why are you so angry?” 

I closed my eyes and exhaled. “I’m angry, because you told them something which wasn’t yours to tell. Saints, Naj- I wouldn’t ask you to do something if I didn’t have good reason!”

“I know. But I couldn’t keep lying to them! They didn’t believe me anymore!”

“Told you,” Kaz muttered. 

I punched him on the arm, hard. 

“You know, if I did that to you, it would be considered abuse,” he grumbled, rubbing his arm. 

I rolled my eyes. “You’ll survive.” 

“That, too!” 

We both looked up. 

“What? I hit your father all the time!” 

“Exactly.” Naj waved towards us. “Da doesn’t like to be touched, but you whack him anyways, and he doesn’t stop you.” We looked at each other at the same time with the same bemused expression. “And you don’t exactly act like you’re “business partners,” either, Ma.”

Kaz smirked. “You are a terrible actor, Meiyu.” 

I made an obscene gesture at him, and Naj squawked indignantly. “Hey! You told me if I did that you’d Curse my fingers together!”

I crossed my arms. “I’m your mother, which means I’m allowed to do it, but you’re not. Dui ma?” 

“Dui,” he replied sullenly, not sounding convinced. 

I sighed. “Naj…you’re getting older. Almost the age I was when I was married-“ his face sobered at that- “There are things that I didn’t tell you because you were too young. But now, you should hear some of those things.” 

Naj didn’t smile. “Could you really get sent back to Shu Han if someone found out you were married to Da?

I nodded. 

“Why?”

I looked to Kaz. Why indeed.

“When Meiyu and I married, your mother was recorded as missing, not dead. Our marriage would not be recognized as legitimate by law.” 

Naj scoffed. “But this is Ketterdam! No one follows the law!” 

For a moment, Kaz looked ready to laugh. “Wise words.” 

I cut right to the point. “Naj, if the wrong people were able to prove our marriage was a sham, I would lose my citizenship. The best-case scenario would be that I would no longer be considered family to you- legally- but I would be allowed to stay here. In Ketterdam.”

“And the worst?”

Kaz shifted off his bad leg. “The worst would mean she is no longer considered a free citizen through marriage. She would be a slave. If she was captured, she would be handed back to whatever slaver would take her, and sold to the highest bidder.”

My son looked horrified. 

“Or, she would not be considered a slave, but instead be registered as an illegal refugee. She would be sent back to Shu Han on next ship leaving the harbor, and she will not be allowed back until she can prove she has blood ties here.” 

Understanding dawned on him. “You can’t, can you, Ma?” He looked so small now. 

I shook my head sadly. “My Gonggong was the only person born on Kerch soil, and he’s been dead for a long time.” 

“But you said your family was huge! One of them would help you!” His voice wobbled, and Kaz put a hand on his shoulder. “Wouldn’t they?” 

My husband looked at me, his mouth a hard line. 

“My parents declared me wuming before they died.” I said softly. “I am Unnamed, xingan.”

To be unnamed meant you were worse than dead- you simply didn’t exist. You were erased from the family, from their life. If you lay dying on the street, they would walk past you. No one would mourn you; no one would light a lantern for your soul; no one would call your name.

That’s what wuming meant. You were nameless. Nobody. Forgotten. 

For the Shu, this was the greatest punishment one could inflict on another. 

He walked over to me, eyes downcast. “I’m sorry for telling them, Ma,” he whispered. Guilt and shame made his whole frame slump. “I didn’t know.” 

I sighed again. “I’m sorry for yelling at you, Naj.” 

He shrugged lifelessly. “S’alright.”

I made him look at me. “No. They’re your family too.” I glanced at Kaz, and back to my son. “But, you’ve chosen truth, and… that is a brave thing to do. Granted, I might not be happy about it, but I think…I think, you’re going to be a fine man.” 

His eyebrows scrunched together. “You said you were going to put me in the ground!”

Kaz’s lips twitched. 

“I say a lot of things,” I countered dryly. “And don’t get fresh. You’re still in trouble.” 

“I know,” he sighed. “But I did a brave thing, right? So am I really in trouble?” He grinned cheekily up at me. 

Huffing, I grabbed him by the shoulders and shoved him towards Kaz. “Your child is giving me a headache,” I said, stone-faced. “Take him away.” 

A small smile graced my husband’s face, and he wrapped a hand around his shoulder, steering him towards the door. “Let’s give your mother some peace.” 

I waited for them to disappear around the corner before I dropped into my chair, head spinning as a throbbing pain bloomed behind my eyelids. If I wanted to remain in the land of the living, I was going to need more of those pills soon. 

Damn.


	33. Training

I woke Naj at the crack of dawn for sparring. 

He was less than pleased. 

We walked up to the roof of the apartment, which conveniently had a flat, open area, perfect for training, which I had protected with my magic. 

Kaz was always a light sleeper, so it was no surprise I saw him make his way towards us, his usual smirk gracing his face as he saw Naj come slouching in, equal parts yawning and scowling. “Again?”

“Of course!” I wrapped my wrists in rough strips of linens, tightening them around my palms. “We both need the practice.” I picked up the heavy ironwood staff and tossed it to Naj, who caught it while in mid-yawn. 

Naj stretched and swung the fighting staff around, twirling it between his hands with a surety he lacked as a young child. He swung it down, then left, testing its weight and balance like he had been doing this all his life (which, he had). “Same rules?” he grumbled morosely. 

I shook my head. “This time, I’m using only the staff. No magic.”

All his drowsiness fell away as Naj let out a low cheer. 

“Now go over there and warm up. I have to talk to your Da.” 

Naj strode off, significantly happier. 

Kaz only spared him an amused glance before coming to my side. “Is this wise?” 

I smiled thinly at Kaz even as I cracked my wrists. “When I fight in the Ring, I’ll be stripped of my magic. I can’t become dependent on it, especially now.” 

“So this is you practicing,” he surmised, “On our thirteen-year-old son.” 

“Right you are, husband dear.” I twisted my hair into a ruthless knot and bound it together with a few strands of magic. “I want Naj to fight real, because he if he keeps pulling his punches, it’s going to get him killed.”

“It also doesn’t help that he’s fighting against his mother, who he doesn’t want to hurt.” 

“I want him to win, but I can’t make this easy, either.” I spoke low so only he could hear. “I’m sick, and that makes me weak in the eyes of my people. If I can’t hold my own against a child for a few minutes of sparring, I might as well forfeit my crown and any chance of revoking Inej’s curse.” 

His eyes drifted to Naj, then to me, and my bone-thin frame. “I don’t want you killed trying to save her, Meiyu.”

I produced my own staff and turned to face him. “The rules of a challenge are yield or death, and I will never yield.” 

Kaz nodded once. I could tell he was far from thrilled, but he knew what I had to do, and he respected that. It was one of the reasons I married him. 

I turned back. “Naj! You better be ready, because we’re starting!” I shouted. 

“Alright, I’m ready.” He jogged over, grinning. 

Cocky. 

I frowned. “Wipe that silly look off your face. This isn’t a game.” 

“Sorry.” Naj immediately schooled his face to one of cool indifference, and I fought a smile. He really was the spitting image of his father. 

“Now,” I spun the staff in my hand and touched my forehead in a warrior’s salute, “two touches is a kill. Do not let it happen to you.” 

Naj saluted me in return. 

Kaz took a large- very wise- step back. 

I took my veil and tossed it in the air, muscles vibrating with tension as I watched it float

Down  
Down  
Down…

It touched the ground, and I exploded into actions, driving Naj back with the sheer force and speed of my blows until he was teetering on the edge of the roof within seconds. 

His teeth were clenched as he attempted to fend off the barrage of hits I rained down on him with blazing speed. 

Defensive, not offensive. 

I growled in frustration. “What are you doing?” I swung the staff and almost took off his head. “Fight, don’t hide!”

He snarled and jabbed at me, forcing me to leap back so my sternum wasn’t shattered. 

“Good!”

Now he stood above me. 

Higher ground. 

His staff whipped over my head, but I danced back, goading him to follow. 

We both knew he had no choice but to leave his spot and if he wanted to score a hit. 

He dropped off the ledge and began driving me back, back, so now I stood with the open drop yawning at my heels. 

Our staffs were little less than a blur as we traded blow after block, colliding with such a racket we would have woken up the whole neighborhood if I hadn’t dampened the sound. I laughed with pure exhilaration. “Excellent!” I exclaimed. “You almost can keep up with me- a sick woman who sees this as fun!”

His control slipped again as I lazily blocked his next swing. 

Frustration made him sloppy, and I used his strength against him to send him careening into the hard stone beneath us. 

Kaz watched his son roll crazily- head over heels- before ramming into the ledge. 

“Get up.” I advanced on him, eyes hard. “On your feet.” 

Disorientated, he shook himself, hard. 

“Stand up!” I barked. “Do not wait for me to hit you again.” 

True to my lessons, Naj scrambled up, face flushed with humiliation. 

I bared my teeth in a vicious smile. “You’re making this too easy.” I stepped back and opened my arms wide. “Here. I’ll let you have a free hit.” 

He stood rooted to the spot. 

His eyes narrowed as his anger grew; the kind of rage that clouded your mind and made you careless. The kind that killed you. 

Inwardly, the look on his face made me frown, but instead, I bowed mockingly. “Come. Let’s see if you’ve learned control.” 

He came at me again, and I arched back, watching as his staff came sailing by inches from my face. 

I laughed. “Good!” I snapped up, spinning around so his back was to me. 

Unprotected. 

My laugh turned into a growl. “But not good enough,” I finished. 

He spun around and swung his staff too hard. Too wildly. 

I deflected it with ease and once again used his brute force to trip him off balance. 

An old trick. 

He swore as he felt himself continued to hurtle forward while I stood still. 

I flipped my staff from my bad hand to my good one and swung it in an unforgiving arc. 

Even Kaz seemed to wince as it connected with his back with a sickening crack. 

Naj tumbled head over heels and crashed to the ground, moaning. 

I wiped my forehead and marched over to his crumpled form to bend over him. “What are you doing?!” I exclaimed, suddenly beside myself with anger. “In a real fight, you’d be dead!” 

Kaz stared at Naj. Checking for broken bones. 

“Ma-“ 

“No!” I held up my hand. “The world does not soften its blows, and neither will I.” I nodded to his weapon. “Get up.”

Naj’s eyes went dark. 

“Get up!” I snapped. 

He twisted and grabbed his staff. 

“Now.” I backed away as he pushed himself to his feet, murder in his eyes. “That was the first hit. Do not let it happen again.” 

He nodded once. 

We hefted our staffs and stepped away. 

“Begin.” I saw an opening in his block and lunged for it like a tiger lunging for the kill.

To my delight, he closed the gap with a sharp jerk and attacked, driving me back again. 

Before I knew it, we were on the edge of the roof- swaying-spinning- leaping- forcing each other back and forth as we traded blows. 

It was like a dance. 

His staff clipped me with enough force to unbalance me, and I toppled off the roof with a surprised yelp. 

I heard Kaz swear. 

“Ma!” Naj sounded horrified. 

I twisted my spine like a cat; so that when I began to fall, I fell my face was level with the ledge. My talons shot and I braced myself to grab onto the ledge. They connected with a teeth-jarring screech!- and I used my momentum and my strength to swing my legs right, up, and around, launching myself up to land with both feet firmly on the ledge in a low crouch. 

Naj (and Kaz, for that matter) looked faintly shocked at the ease I had corrected myself. 

I grinned. “Good!” 

He recovered fast enough to send me bending back again, contorting my body so I could grab hold of my staff and continue fighting. 

Minutes passed in silence, and my arms had begun to ache from holding up the heavy staff for so long without rest.

I felt my lungs burning. 

I was sick- dying- and my body was beginning to fail me. 

And I smiled with nothing but happiness, because I knew I was losing, and that meant my son was winning. 

Naj’s staff was like lightning. Concentration turned his entire face to stone. 

A blow caught me by surprise, and I felt my grip slide and my defense falter and drop for the briefest second. 

Naj’s attention went right to the spot. He grinned. “Sorry Ma.” 

I felt his staff connect with my entire left side. 

Pain exploded across my ribs as I staggered and fell. Instinctively I curled my neck in and turned my fall into a roll, barely kept myself from smashing headfirst into the stone. 

Kaz tapped his cane against the floor. “Two hits.” He looked between us. “You’d better stop now before one of you kills the other.” 

“Ghezen…” I groaned as I unraveled myself. My whole body screamed in pain as I sat up. I clutched my side and coughed, hard, doubled over. Blood spattered the ground, metallic and salty- and turned my head so I could spit the rest of it onto the stone. 

Naj’s grin fell. 

I had a feeling something was broken. Each breath felt like knives sawing into my chest.

Kaz approached me to help me up, but I waved him off. 

Without saying a word, I stood, and in one graceful motion I clasped my hands together and bowed to my son. “A good fight,” I said in Shu. 

“A good fight,” Naj repeated. 

Kaz rubbed a hand down his face in exasperation. “Wait until the pain sinks in. You two wont be bowing then.” 

“Nonsense.” I ran my tongue over my teeth, tasting blood. “Naj?”

“Yes?” 

I made my way over to him as delicately as I could. “Do your mother a favor and fetch your mother some ice from the box,” I said mildly. “I think you broke a few of my ribs.” 

“I did say sorry,” he quipped, not sorry at all. 

I gave him my sternest look. “Watch that mouth, young man.” 

He rolled his eyes at my words, but as he began to turn around, I held onto his arm and made him look at me. “You did well,” I said softly.

He shrugged, but I could see him trying not to smile. 

I let go of his arm and gave him a small push. “Go.” 

Naj nodded, pausing to mop his face off with his shirt before heading down the steps to the lower floor. 

I waited for his unruly mop of hair to disappear before I bent, hands on knees, and wheezed. “Oh, God. I’m getting to old for this.” 

Kaz’s smirk could be heard from across the area. “You’re not even forty yet, Meiyu.” 

“I know,” I moaned. “That’s the worst part!” 

“You were hit fairly hard.” He limped his way across to me and gestured to my side. “May I?” 

I gave him a shrewd look. “If I didn’t know any better, I feel like you’re just using this as an excuse to feel me up,” I sniped. 

His mouth twitched. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” 

I sighed. “Well? Go on,” I straightened and held still as I felt his fingers touched my ribs, feeling for breaks. His fingers pressed on a particularly painful spot, and I hissed. 

“Breath in,” he ordered. 

It hurt so much I didn’t even want to try. “No,” I growled. 

His hand fell onto the head of his cane. “Why?” 

“Because I said so, you ass!” 

Kaz raised his eyebrows. Without warning, his hand came back, and I inhaled as they skated up my ribs, running over them with a practiced hand. “They’re cracked, not broken.” 

“Oh?” I glared at him. “So now you’re a doctor.” 

Kaz smiled with little humor. “If you’d broken them, badly, you would either be spitting up blood, or, your lung would be punctured, and you’re be suffocating.” 

“Lovely.” 

“I’m just speaking the truth.” 

“Hm. Now. Get your hands off of me.” 

His hand fell away, and I did my best to look unaffected. 

“Ma?” 

I turned around to see Naj padding over. 

“Ma? Ni hai hao’ma?” 

“Shen’me? You think I’ve never broken ribs before?” I scoffed. I took the ice from him and began straightening dampened his curls. 

Naj pulled out of range. “Ma, stop!” He scowled as he smoothed it down. 

“Aiya- so messy…” I lamented. “Did you even comb it?” 

Kaz and Naj glanced at each other and began to walk away. 

“Hey!” I marched after them. “Where are you going? Huilai!” 

I had a feeling they were laughing at me, but strangely, I didn’t mind.  
…


	34. The Call (Year 10)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey people! I'm still working on some stuff for these next chapters because... procrastination... they're coming up, though! The rest of the story is practically done; I'm just bad at writing fight scenes.

Meiyu stood at the window, shoulder to shoulder with a woman in red. 

The lady held herself with an air of one accustomed to the highest respect- and by the way Meiyu regarded her, it wasn’t at all unfounded. Her solemn, weathered face was streaked with dots of thick, fibrous red pigment- the customary mark of all Yue’Hai’i women- but while most only carried one, this woman had five: five bloody marks that orbited her forehead like stars around a sun, naming her as a woman revered; honored among the Five. 

The Matriarch herself. 

At the sound of my cane, their heads snapped around like two great birds of prey- and I wondered if this was how a mouse felt when it stared into the eyes of a snake. Quick as lightning, the woman’s cutting gaze raked down my form, and all it took was one look at my undeniable foreignness for her lips to curl, her reptilian eyes narrowing to slits. 

“Bairen,” she hissed. 

Outsider. 

“You asked for me.” I spoke only to Meiyu. 

She made to respond, but the woman was already turning back: the rasping, sibilate words carrying the weight of a dragon’s snarl- yet all it took was a word from Meiyu: sharp and commanding, for the Matriarch to fall silent. 

“Ke’Chi,” Meiyu ordered. 

“Ta jiu bairen, M’Yanu!” she protested, now in Shu. “Wo bu-“ 

“He is my husband,” she answered. “And you will speak.”

The woman’s face pinched, but when it became clear that her sovereign would not be moved, she was forced to concede, her bow more than a little grudging. “It is time, my queen.” The words rolled slowly off her tongue: thickened by the low, guttural accent of her people. “You have refused the call, but no more. Your duty is with our people- not here, with these bairen-” 

“I am well aware of my duties, Matriarch.” Meiyu’s voice was cold with warning, and for the first time in the conversation, the woman seemed to remember who she was talking to. “And if the People call, then tell them M’yanu will answer.” 

Appeased, the Matriarch inclined her head again (this time with a tad more sincerity) and Meiyu returned it. “My queen.” She shuffled out of the door, making sure to throw me a look of pure, slit-eyed distrust on the way out.

Meiyu didn’t relax until the receding sound of her footsteps was long gone. 

“You’re going back to Shu Han, then? To the capitol?”

“No.” She looked up, and the Queen of Dragons stared back at me. “I’m going home.”


	35. The Village

“Naj.” She touched his shoulder, and he stirred. “We’re here.” 

Far out to the East, the sun’s rays spilled over the edge of the Spine, casting the shadows in sharp relief against the craggy rocks and cuts of the mountain side, lighting the mists that rose from their peaks. Awed and disbelieving, Naj stepped closer to the edge of the compartment, clutching the wooden railing to take his first look at his mother’s ancestral home.

“My queen.” Meiyu turned her gaze to the Matriarch, who gestured to the fast-approaching rock face, expectant.

She turned back, her eyes ablaze with the light from the sun. Her hands rose, palms flickering with light, and calmly watched as the mountainside got closer.

Naj glanced back at her, brow furrowed. “What are you doing, Ma?”

She didn’t answer. 

Swift as an arrow, we bared down on the jutting peaks.

“Ummm…” Naj looked faintly alarmed, and for good reason. We were gaining speed now, and it didn’t seem like we’d be slowing any time soon. “Ma?” 

“Meiyu?”

“We’re not going to crash,” she said lightly. “Promise.” 

I couldn’t help but disagree: we were flying now- flying through the air with unnatural speed- the wind whistling past as we hurtled towards the unforgiving stone.

Faster and faster. 

Closer and closer

 _Saints_ -

My whole body went rigid as the face of the mountain overtook my vision: bracing myself for the impact that never came. 

The mountainside rippled around us like water disturbed by a pebble’s throw, and we burst through the mountain- the _mirage_ \- to swoop past towers of stone that seemed to grow from the mountains themselves. Buildings soared above the low-hanging clouds: reinforced with steel and magic, humming with activity. The sunlight filtered through the gleaming metal, and there-there beneath our feet- was a city- not some village hacked into the side of the rocks but a living, breathing _city_ : merged seamlessly- impossibly- with the landscape around it.

“ _Wo’men Jia_ ,” the Matriarch said softly, her eyes bright.

“Home,” Meiyu agreed.

People- _Cursemakers_ \- milled about, crossing bridges of light that seemed to spill from their own feet, greeting one another, looking up at the new coming vessel: eyes wide, fingers pointing. I saw children, too. A girl with eyes like raw gold. A boy with sun-browned skin and shimmering scales. The youngest bore the very beginning of horns- diminutive nubs that poked through their raven hair- while the oldest sported antlers that burst from their foreheads like a stag’s rack.

Meiyu turned back to us, her eyes alight with a fierce kind of pride.

“Welcome,” she declared. “Welcome to The Village.” 

...


	36. Tag and Cards (One Shot)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! So obviously this fic is super long but I wanted to have something showing Naj interacting with kids because, well, he's an only child and he hasn't exactly had a lot of time to be a kid in Ketterdam. (Also, the idea of Kaz in an environment where people have no idea who he is/kids aren't afraid of him is highly entertaining to think about...) This might end up as a separate one-shot, along with any other's I decide to write just for fun.

Naj shifted from foot to foot, staring up into the sky _. "Yi, er, san…”_  
  
Stifled giggled and scampering.  
  
_“…si wu, liu, qi…”_  
  
Scuffling and distant squeals.  
  
_“…ba, jiu, shi!_ Ready or not, here I come _!"_ He whipped around and stalked through the grass, the craggy peaks providing more than enough cover for all the “Hatchlings” that were now hiding from the queen’s Kerch son. _“_ Hmmm _. Nimen zai na’li?....”_  
The giggling went silent.  
  
A pair of horns sunk low behind a rock.  
  
He grinned and wandered closer. “I see y-“  
  
Shrieking, the girl shot up from her spot, dragging her sister little with her. In the blink of an eye, they had both transformed into two small dragons- one dove gray, one a dull, stormy blue- and bounded away, their gleeful barks shrill with delight as he chased after them, stumbling over the jagged landscape.  
  
Suddenly, the rocks were alive with Hatchlings of all colors and forms, fleeing from the fascinatingly foreign boy in a life-or-death game of tag. Some looked little more than children; some were already halfway between serpent and human; and some merely shed their human skins and stayed as they were: dragons, born and bred.  
  
All of them were smiling.  
  
They jumped and tumbled and rolled down the side of the slope- throwing themselves at the long, toasty-warm body of the Queen, who had been sunning herself on the rocks with the other females.  
  
Meiyu’s peered down at the mass of little bodies that had wedged themselves against her. _“What’s this?”_ she rumbled.  
  
A chorus of shushes.   
  
_“Shhh!”_ A girl with silver eyes tried to bury herself deeper in Meiyu’s side. _“We’re hiding!”_  
  
_“Ahh.”_  
  
Naj squinted down at all of them. “I see you!” he shouted, striding down the hill.  
  
The Hatchlings abandoned their shield and scattered.  
  
Meiyu’s tail shot out, and she yanked one back, eyes sparkling with mirth as he kicked and shrieked in mock-terror. _“Here! Here! I’ve got one!”_ she called, waving him aloft _._  
  
_“Nooooo!-“_  
  
Naj laughed as the boy wormed his way out of his mother’s (now loose) grip and flopped to the ground, sprinting away as Naj tore after him, hot on his heels. They looped round and round until Naj snatched the boy up with a triumph “Ha!” only to drop him with a yelp as the child spat saltwater in his face.  
  
Meiyu laughed with the other mothers.  
  
Undeterred, Naj ran on: chasing each child with a single-minded determination.  
  
A small tug on her tail made her look down at the face of a tiny girl, too small and too shy to join in with the rough play of her peers. _“Oh,”_ she said knowingly, _“you want to see my husband’s magic again, don’t you sweetheart.”_  
  
She nodded hopefully.  
  
_“Aiyo!-“_ Her mother scooped her up frowned down at her _. “Again?”_  
  
Another nod.  
  
Meiyu craned her neck back. _“Kaz_ ,” she called _, “your admirer is back!”_  
  
He looked up from his papers: a Ketterdam crow hopelessly out of place in the wilds of Shu Han. _“What?”_ he asked flatly _._  
  
Meiyu rolled her eyes and pointed.  
  
_“Oh,”_ was all he said as he folded the documents up _._  
  
The girl scrambled out of her mother’s grasp and bounced up to him, eyeing his pockets for a deck of playing cards. (You see, she’d never seen cards before him, and despite his dark and looming figure, she couldn’t help but be entranced by this Outsider who seemed to be as much as a magician as anyone she’d ever met!)  
  
He cocked an eyebrow at her eager smile. _“Yes?”_  
  
_“Could you do a trick, please?”_ she asked in Shu.  
  
_“I could.”_  
  
Oblivious to the finality his tone, she continued smiling, waiting for him to unveil his magic cards.  
  
He didn’t move.  
  
She didn’t, either _. “Please?”_ she tried again _._  
  
_“No.”_  
  
_“Why?”_  
  
_“Because.”_ Kaz watched as her face scrunched into a poor imitation of his frown, the grimace falling away as she giggled helplessly _. “What?”_  
  
Still giggling, she ran to him and wrapped her spindly arms and legs around his shin, seating herself firmly on his foot like a human ball-and-chain.  
  
_“You’re not going to let go until I do the card trick, are you?”_  
  
A nod.  
  
Careful to keep his face blank, he took up his cane and began thumping along, his already crooked gate made even more lopsided by the 30-pound child who clung to his leg: whooping every time he swung her into the air to take a step. She was strong, he had to give her that. And determined. (At one point he tried to shake her off, but she only wound her tail around his leg tighter, hugging his leg to her body like a vine strangling a tree.)  
  
_“Let go.”_ He shook her again, but to no avail. When he glanced over at Meiyu, she only reclined further, clearly holding back laughter.  
  
He sighed.  
  
_“Fine.”_  
  
The limbs unwound, and the girl sat back, face lit with anticipation.  
  
Kaz pulled the deck of cards from his pocket, letting the cards flow between his fingers like water: spreading and fanning and disappearing without a trace. Spirals, chains, waves, archs- it was magic like she’d never seen. The stiff, glossy paper seemed to fly and weave between his hands as if they had a life of their own; as if gravity didn’t touch them.  
  
They bent and spun.  
  
They fanned and folded.  
  
The tricks flit by, and the girl watched them all with unblinking, wonder-filled eyes.

(After all: not all magic had to be magical.)

  
And so it was that while the Queen relaxed and her son played, the Bastard of the Barrel crouched in front of a doe-eyed child and made cards dance.  
  



	37. The People of the Five

The drums thundered through the crowd like a beating heart: mirroring the heads that rose and fell to the pounding beat. Ivory horns swung with the weight of polished silver and precious stones, shining white-hot against the brilliant Eastern sun.

Green, black, white, yellow- the People were a riot of earthen colors that danced and sang their way across the white-tipped waters of the river. 

Their queen was like a drop of blood among leaves.

“Five is a sacred number.”

Kaz shifted his gaze to the translator next to him.

“Here, each color is a different element; a different people,” the translator explained. “Lusi- green: the People of the Forest. Heisi- black: the People of the River and Sea. Baisi- white: the People of the Mountains and Metal. And huangsi- yellow: the People of the Earth.”

“And red?” Kaz didn’t take his eyes off Meiyu.

“ _Huo_ ,” she stated, eyes alight with pride.

“Fire.”

She nodded.

Meiyu’s red silk robes rippled like flame as she danced. Her teeth were sharp as knives as she smiled, threw back her head, twirled in a circle as the drums thudded on: oblivious to anything other than the warbling cries of the crowd. Her face was streaked with the same paint as the Matriarch, but the lines were more vicious. Warlike. Her movements were wild and fierce, and each scar that marred her skin was a proud badge of survival; endurance; strength.

The Queen of Dragons indeed.

Her clothing revealed long expanses of her black-scaled skin- scandalously bare, by Kerch standards- but infinitely better-suited for the tropical climate than Kaz’s long-sleeved shirts and fine woolen suits. The sun was merciless; the humidity stifling, and he had long abandoned the hope of staying cool. Now, he stood on the bow of a sleek Cursemaker barge and watched them glide towards the edge of the falls.

“And you’re sure there are no others like her,” he asked evenly, eyes drawn to the queen. “The war scattered refugees from here to Zemeni; they could be anywhere.”

The translator looked at him strangely, surprised at how much this Outsider seemed to know of her Queen. “There are no others, sir,” she said soberly. “We are the last.”

They both turned back to the shivering, swaying crowd with its rainbow of colors and people, and Meiyu raised her hand in the air, her black knife now a blade-tipped staff.

“ _Na’han-a_!” she roared.

“Na’han-a!” They echoed.

And with an earthshaking _BOOM_ , the golden mist shot from their feet, spreading out like fog across the sea to form a curling bridge that arched and roiled over the thundering of the waters below. The barge stilled as mothers, fathers, grandparents and children each stepped off its deck: the magic beneath their feet strong as Grisha glass.

Kaz looked down at the frothing rapids; the rocks and the dizzying drop. 

“Don’t look down.” Meiyu stood before him, nearly unrecognizable, save for the eyes that peered past the scales and paint and jewels. She smiled. “Come.”

Her hand extended between them. 

And so, the Queen and her Crow strode across the bridge with their son and her people following close behind.

…

“Kaz?”

“Yes?”

She stood below him in the shadows, rubbing her bad wrist like she always did when she was worrying and trying not to’ picking at her skirt. “Just…”

“What is it?”

“Nothing.” Quick and nervous, her teeth flashed white. “No mourners.”

He tipped his head down to look her in the eye. “No funerals.”

A reminder, and she knew it.

Meiyu stepped back to where the Matriarch waited, and the two women strode into the dark clearing: globes of light blooming from their hands to fill the gloom with a brilliance brighter than any day. The chants of the people swelled to a primal roar at the sight of their beloved leaders, and the call rose above the mists of the Spine to reverberate as it had for thousands of years. 


	38. The Circle

Power thrummed through the rocks- poured from the hands of both women and the crowd alike, making the whole foundation quake in celebration.

The Matriarch stepped into the center of the stone platform and raised her hand. “My people,” the Matriarch proclaimed in Dragontongue, “You have sounded the call, and your queen has answered.”

Meiyu stepped forward.

“I give you your queen: M’yanu of An’Lin: Daughter of the Phoenix.”

Meiyu touched her horns, and her people saluted in return.

The Matriarch held out her hand, and we watched as a white-robed Elder unsheathed a delicate, syringe-like contraption- its vicious point made for piercing through bone- and presented it to the woman with undeniable purpose.

The drums began to pound.

“Only the strongest of the Children may rule- for that is the way of our People.”

My jaw ached from clenching.

Naj stood stock-still.

“Now,” the Matriarch said, stepping close, “we shall see if you are strong.”

And she buried the point into Meiyu’s heart.

Naj inhaled sharply as his mother staggered and fell: wheezing as the magic was drained from her body. Seconds passed to the beat of the drums, and the contraption filled with light- her light; only when the last dregs of her magic were gone did the hollowed needle slide out, leaving her bent double and shivering on the floor, eyes clenched against the pain.

The chanting rose to a fevered pitch, and when Meiyu opened her eyes, and they were a dull, ordinary gold.

The drumming stopped.

Meiyu breathed deep- rose- and sunk back, looking ready to pass out.

A line of blood ran down her chest.

Her people waited with bated breath.

Meiyu’s eyes slid shut as she swallowed, gathering her strength. Her movements stilted, she managed to push herself to her feet: wobbling only for a moment as a clear gold liquid- sullied with blood- ran down her chin to spatter the stones below.

The Matriarch’s expression was pleased.

Teeth bared, Meiyu spat the blood out and turned to us, back straight as an arrow. “The Mother’s strength lives inside me,” she announced to the assembly. “Glory to the Mother!”

“Alla’k-hu!” The crowd chorused.

Pleased, the Matriarch’s hand rose again, and silence fell. “Since the time of the beginning, the spirit of the Mother calls us home: to dance, to fight, and to choose our honored Queen.” She turned about, now speaking directly to the leaders of the Tribes. “Only the strong may rule our kind, so I ask you now: will you answer the call, and fight for the throne, or will you bow to your Queen, and refuse?”

Graceful as a willow, a woman in leafy silks, her horns inlaid with jade and silver and satiny-polished wood. “In the name of the Forest: we refuse the call.” She bowed and retreated, her luminous green eyes never leaving Meiyu.

Sharp as the sword at her waist, a grey-scaled woman stepped forward, the plates of her armor forged from bluish Cursemaker steel. “In the name of the Mountains, we refuse the call.” Bowing, her people saluted as one, and she melted back into the background.

Solid and sure-footed, a sunbaked woman with dark, cracked skin the color of wet earth shuffled forward, her words faintly garbled by the golden rings that wrapped tight around her neck. “In the name of the Earth, we refuse the call.” She touched her horns, and her people followed.

Eyes chilled, a woman in flowing robes of blue looked down upon Meiyu, her expression colder than the snow that dusted the mountaintops. “In the name of the Sea, we will answer the call.”

Meiyu didn’t look surprised.

Actually, by the flash in her eyes, this was exactly what she wanted.

“In the name of the People,” the Matriarch called up, “state your reasons.”

The woman tilted her chin up, lips curling as she spoke- quite deliberately- in Kerch. “We answer the call because she has turned her backs on her people and her home. We answer the call because she is a whore who spreads her legs for Outsiders and criminals alike.” Her eyes burned with a vengeance. “We answer the call because she is a kin-killer, and the murderer of her cousin- my chosen Hand.”

Hushed murmurs rippled along the crowds, dying at the crack of her voice.

“We demand the Ancient Rite- true form only.”

There was a hint in surprise in the arch of the Matriarch’s brow. “And your conditions?”

“If she wins, the People of the Sea will grant amnesty to the Queen’s crime.” Her voice chilled. “And if she loses, we demand the public, uncontested execution of Meiyu Brekker.”

Like a clap of thunder, the people burst into outraged exclamations, and the Leader of the Mountain Tribe- The Warrior- snapped forward, her face pale with disgust. “Honored Sister, you ask too much,” she growled. “This gathering is not meant to be a slaughter-“

“Shah!- Do not speak to me of slaughter, snake-“

The woman hissed, and her people looked ready to draw their arms.

Meiyu cleared her throat, causing the commotion to freeze.

“My Queen,” the Matriarch drawled, swiveling to face a smirking Meiyu, “what say you?”

Meiyu stepped forward, not at all bothered by the ruckus. “I am well aware of my crimes,” she said smoothly, “and I stand prepared to answer for them.”

Startled, the Matriarch blinked. “My Queen-“

“I accept my Sister’s demand for her Ancient Rite.” Meiyu raised a finger. “However: I, too, have my conditions.” Her mouth twisted in a thin smile. “If I lose, I ask not to be executed, but rather, to be forced into exile until I can atone for my crimes.”

Mutinous, the leader of the Sea watched as four hands were raised against her.

“It is so,” the Matriarch declared.

The hands dropped.

“And if you win, what would you ask?”

Expectant, she leveled her gaze at the spectator. “If I win, I ask for the Five to revoke Inej Ghafa’s curse and return her to her family.”

Caught off guard, no one seemed to know what to say.

Until cruel laughter split the silence like an ax.

“Sister!” The Leader of the Sea exclaimed in Shu, “can you not see?- your husband has traded you for the Wraith!” She laughed again, scorn and pity in her gaze, and Meiyu stiffened. “By all that is holy- you left your People for this Outsider- and he has used you like a common whore-!”

“Don’t call my mother that!” Naj yelled. He glared daggers at the woman, who regarded him behind her veil with a half-cooked mix of surprise and contempt.

“I will call her what she is, child-“

“No!”

Shocked by his gall, the woman’s smirk faltered, and my young, foolish son blazed on, any semblance of propriety or caution evaporating in the heat of his righteous fire. “She’s been helping people escape Shu Han for years,” he shouted, hands balled into fists, “and you know why? Because you’re too chicken-shit to do it yourself- that’s why!”

Stifled gasps (and a few laughs) escaped as the woman snarled, claws extended.

“How dare you-!“

“Enough!” The Matriarch’s cry sliced through the thick of argument like a knife through butter. “Enough, I say!”

But-“

“An’jing!”

Her mouth snapped shut, stewing in her fury.

The uncompromising authority in the Matriarch’s next words made her a towering figure next to the sputtering leader of the sea. “You have asked for your Rite and have been granted it. Now cease this petty bickering, Wang T’Ling, or leave this gathering immediately.”

With that, the woman’s last outburst died on her lips, and she bowed woodenly, humiliation and fury simmering hot under her frozen mask.

Bringing her hands together, the Matriarch clapped, and a hush descended on the scene. “Step forward: M’yanu of An’Lin, and T’Ling of Zhu’Sha.”

They did, and the drums began to beat.

No one was laughing now.

“Take your positions.”

Without a word, both Meiyu and T’Ling separated to opposite sides of the clearing as a glowing circle materialized in the air above them.

Like a shivering dome of light, it descended upon them from above.

“Yield or death; only these can end the Rite.” The Matriarch signaled, and with the sound of a nest of rattlesnakes rising from the sand, two dragons uncoiled from the confines of their human forms: writhing with impossible fluidity as they swung their horned heads about and hissed, reptilian eyes devoid of weakness.

“Glory to the Mother.”

And with a muted boom, the circle came cracking down.  
…

Kaz felt his stomach drop as T’Ling launched herself at Meiyu: her silver-tipped digging deep and raking down Meiyu’s side with the screech of a dull knife shredding metal.

Her bellow of pain made his hair stand on end.

Still roaring, Meiyu twisted and sank her fangs into the meat of her opponent’s neck- loosening T’Ling’s grip just enough for her to brutally kick her away- but the injury had weakened her, and now he saw that blood ran down her side in crimson rivulets.

Head to head, the two collided again, and the ground shook with the fury of their blows. Swipe- bite- claw- there was little strategy or finesse to be found here; this was dragon country, and like the street fights in Ketterdam, anything was allowed as long as someone won.

Talons dug. Teeth snapped. Tails struck with crippling force.

The Matriarch looked on, impassive to the bloodshed. “Alla’k-hu!”

The circle tightened.

A swipe of her tail sent Meiyu crashing to the ground, and T’Ling circled around her, swinging her horns and bellowing like an angry bull.

The drums thundered on, never slowing.

Moaning slightly, Meiyu pushed herself upright on unsteady legs and crouched low, feverishly tracking T’Ling’s movements. Her bad wrist was curled tightly against her chest, and she limped from where her leg had twisted underneath her body. Her ribs were cracked again- Kaz could hear the sticky wheeze from here- and by the blood that trickled between her teeth, one more blow could puncture her lungs.

Victorious, T’Ling prowled forward and trumpeted to the skies.

Meiyu merely stood her ground and waited.

_“I’m stronger than I look.”_

He knew she was, and when T’Ling lunged, she struck.

One- two- three- her neck reared back and drove her back and back and back with swift, violent stabs towards her unprotected eyes, vaulting over the stumbling limbs to slash deep furrows into her snout and muzzle- ducking and coiling and springing to shoot forward and clamp her jaws around the female’s neck.

She could have ripped her throat out, then.

Everyone knew it.

She could have ended it right there.

But instead she hurled T’Ling aside like a dog with a toy, and they watched as she hit the circle’s boundary with a resounding crunch.

Meiyu prowled closer and slapped her tail against the ground, barking.

Yield.

T’Ling lifted her head and turned, spitting and snarling.

“Alla’k-hu!”

The circle tightened.

Her jaws opened wide, and a river erupted from her mouth.

Naj gasped as the murky green waters slammed into Meiyu and swept her off her feet- sent her spinning across the rocks just as the circle tightened once more- and right as the plume of fire burst from Meiyu’s jaws- it doused it: filled the Circle’s confines and left her suspended like an insect in trapped glass.

Suffocating.

Even smothered, though, the heat of Meiyu’s fire made the water scalding hot, and when it touched T’Ling, she shrieked: a shrill, wavering noise that poured from her writhing form and made Kaz wish he couldn’t hear the human underneath. The blistering temperature barely affected Meiyu- he knew that- but T’Ling…

T’Ling would be cooked alive.

The circle disappeared, and the water came crashing down.

Shivering, T’Ling recoiled from the scalding water, and while she was clearly in incredible pain, the hate in her gaze told us she would never stop fighting until one of them was dead.

Meiyu opened her jaws, but then the water was suddenly forcing its way down her throat: dousing her flame in the blink of an eye and leaving her cold. The muscles of her neck rippled as she gurgled, trying and failing to purge her lungs of the suffocating liquid. She convulsed. Her head thrashed back and forth, and she reared on her hind legs: fire surging in a final attempt to dispel the water and breathe.

But all too soon, the fire sputtered out, and so did the last of Meiyu’s strength.

We could only watch in horror as she staggered and fell: water bubbling from her gaping mouth as she drowned on dry land.

And while Meiyu drowned, T’Ling had risen from her spot to slither closer: her bloodshot eyes riveted on the bulging throat that was now waiting to be torn open.

“Get up, Ma!” Naj was screaming now. “Get up!”

Her head lifted ever-so-slightly, and she winked.

She winked.

Yes, I decided. Once all of this was done, I’d kill her.

T’Ling struck, and Meiyu used her momentum to tip her off balance- same as Naj- and send her hurtling past her, her control on the water breaking as Meiyu pushed herself to her feet, sucking in air with a desperation of one long-deprived of oxygen. Now, a spray of white fire blasted from the depths of her maw to paint the rocks a crackling, hissing red. T’Ling howled when the flames licked her reddened skin, and the fire was extinguished as Meiyu crouched and leapt: looping her body around T’Ling’s neck to send her slamming to the ground: her skull brutally pinned by the splay of Meiyu’s talons.

Somewhere in the crowd, a silver-haired woman cried out.

“Yield,” Meiyu growled in Dragontongue.

Roaring, T’Ling bucked like a stallion, but Meiyu’s talons sunk deeper, and she yowled in pain.

“Yield,” she barked again, and when she received nothing but a slap in return, her head shot down, and she hoisted T’Ling by her neck, dragging her- kicking and flailing- to the edge of the cliffs where the river thundered below.

Full of blood and rage, they snarled into each other’s eyes, and I knew neither would ever yield.

They were dragons, after all.

Eyes doused of emotion, Meiyu tightened her grip and met her gaze. “Alla’k-hu,” she rumbled, and with a ruthless twist, she broke T’Ling’s neck.

A thin wail rose from the crowd as the burning eyes dimmed.

The body dropped with a wet slap, and the drumming stopped.

A cloak made of scales was unfurled, and Meiyu slipped under it to transform back into her human shape. Solemn and tight-lipped, she stared down at T’Ling’s lifeless form with something akin to weariness. “From blood to blood it is done.” She looked up, and her voice rang hard and clear as an iron bell. “Hail the valiant dead.”

“Hail!” As one, the people sunk to their knees.

The woman who had wailed had long since collapsed.

Meiyu returned their bow, but I knew that the victorious, queenly persona she projected now was anything but; here, now, fights to the death were still very much a part of Cursemaker culture- but if T’Ling had yielded, I knew without a doubt Meiyu would have spared her.

Yet only the strong could rule.

Only the strong could bring the Five to heel.

Teeth stained with blood, Meiyu drew Inej’s knife and held it aloft. “My people,” the translator murmured as she spoke, “I stand before you with a heavy heart, for I have killed my honored sister. But now I call upon you- the leaders of the Five- to honor your word: release Inej Ghafa from the Curse that binds her, and let the People guide her home.”

One by one, the women of the Tribes stepped forwards and cut their palm with the blade: painting its edge with their blood. Their faces ranged from reverent to placid to cold, and when it was her turn, Meiyu sliced her own hand: her blood mingling with T’Ling’s as she spoke the final incantation:

“Let the forest bow before her; let the sea flow swift and smooth; let the mountains lay low, and let the earth rise up to meet her.” Taking a deep breath, she bathed the dagger with her own red fire, the blood sizzling as it was burned away. “From blood to blood, this Curse is no more.”

The blade crumbled to ash.

Power flowed through Kaz like an electric shock, and he felt the effects of YuYan’s Curse fall away like a leech exposed to salt. He’d never fully realized the lingering shadow of its influence- how it had clung to Naj and him like an oily residue- but now that it was gone-

His heart stopped.

Now that it was gone, Inej was coming home.

A thousand thoughts and feelings and emotions he had long since extinguished flooded through him at the thought of her on the docks- in his arms and beside his son- only to grind to a halt when he saw the newly-made queen being swiftly ushered away by her attendants, bloody footprints smearing behind her as she half walked, half limped to the House of Mirrors.

Naj was close behind when the doors were barred.

“You cannot help, child,” the Matriarch had said. “The Mirrors are for her eyes only.”

So they waited.

...

_The test came and went, but it was a long time before Meiyu emerged, pale-faced and silent._

_They never asked her what she saw that day; why she barely spared them a glance when she saw them standing there; why she sat, unmoving, on the grassy cliffs that overlooked the valley, seeing nothing of the vast, sun-kissed horizon that spread out before her._

_They never asked why she clutched a dandelion at the end of its life; lifted it to her lips. Blew, hard, and watched the seeds sail into the air._

_They never asked what she wished for._

_Somehow, they knew she would never tell them._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! So obviously this fic is super long but I wanted to have something showing Naj interacting with kids because, well, he's an only child and he hasn't exactly had a lot of time to be a kid in Ketterdam. Still, I didn't want to make this even longer so I'm adding it as a one shot. There might be others like it.


	39. Learning to Fly

“She’ll be here, soon.”  
  
Kaz glanced over, startled to hear her speak. She’d been distancing herself for weeks, little by little, and now the only times she had spoken to him were for business-purposes alone. A new job. A dispute within the Dregs. An underground trafficking operation. Those were the only conversations they’d shared in days. It felt like how’d they were at the beginning of their marriage: when neither wanted to offer the other the barest sliver of companionship or intimacy for the sake of self-preservation.  
  
“How soon?”  
  
“Tomorrow.” Meiyu wouldn’t look at him. “You should be the one to open the door.”  
  
He nodded. “Is someone accompanying her?”  
  
“A’Lam.”  
  
“Your healer?”  
  
“Yes.” Her hands didn’t slow from their work: twisting and folding the molten steel wire between her white-hot fingers to weave a new kind of steel cable strong enough to support nearly a hundred pounds of weight; maybe more. “Inej has been under this curse for a decade; the effects will not fade for many years to come.”  
  
Kaz watched her deft movements and waited for the world to stop turning.  
  
“Bringing her home was easy,” she said. “What happens after- _that_ will be hard.”  
  
His eyes flicked at the closed, waiting door.  
  
Inej was coming home.  
  
Inej would be here, soon.  
  
He still could barely accept it as reality. Dreams, after all, were for men who believed that love would be enough to save even the most tainted of souls. They belonged to men who weren’t damaged and crooked as they looked; men who let themselves feel the touch of another human being without flinching away; men who met someone good and pure and perfect and then had the luxury of spending the rest of their lives with them, with the person they loved.   
  
But now…  
  
“I think I made a mistake, saying yes.” The braided wire began to warp from the heat, but her voice didn’t change. “You’d think I'd have learned my lesson by now.”  
  
She looked up from her work and offered him a rueful, self-depracating smile, but her eyes: her eyes were deep pools of topaz, empty of light. There was something gone from those eyes. Something barren. The dragon was releasing the crow- untethering them from their mutual bonds so he could join his mate in the skies- but Kaz wasn’t sure how he could return to all that he’d once dreamed of when he had begun to love the ties that bound him to earth.


	40. Part Two: Shattered Glass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, guys. This is where it gets messy. 
> 
> Prepare yourself!!

**Part Two: Shattered Glass**  
**(Year 10)**  
  
All three of us froze.  
  
Here was the love of my husband’s life.

Inej Ghafa: come home at last. 

Kaz looked inexplicably lost. “Inej…” He reached out to her and touched her face. Even his breathing changed, then: it hitched like the air had been drawn out of his lungs. “Inej.”  
  
“Kaz.” She carefully reached out and cupped his face with her bare hands. He did not shy away. Her smile wobbled, and the love in her eyes made my stomach drop.  
  
They stared at each other, and it was like… like nothing in the world existed but them. Like they were two halves of a broken soul that had finally been made into one.  
  
In all my life, I have never felt so utterly, horribly alone.  
  
I felt like I was intruding- intruding!- But… I never really was married- not in the way they were, at least- and with that sobering thought, I took my ring off and tucked it into my sleeve. Mouth dry, I did my best to silently retreat from the room, praying no one would notice me.  
  
I was almost out the door when her voice froze me. “Wait.”  
  
I wanted to get out of there as fast as I could. I wanted to walk and walk until I was far, far away.  
  
Instead, I paused. Turned.   
  
“Who are you?” Her voice was soft with her Suli accent.  
  
_Just a ghost_ , was what I thought. “Meiyu Han,” was what I said.   
  
Her eyes widened slightly. “They said you died years ago.”  
  
“I haven’t acted as the Blood Dragon for many years. Not since-” I stopped myself before I said it. Kaz’s eyes immediately scanned my hand for my wedding ring to see if Inej had noticed it. His eyes darted to me, but I ignored him. “Not since I came to Ketterdam,” I finished.   
  
She looked between the two of us, sensing the strain in the conversation. “How do you know Kaz?” Her voice was equally curious and wary, as if she feared the answer.  
  
I smiled thinly in return. My ring finger felt bare. “I work for him.” I took in her face, gathering my resolve. “Take care of his son.”  
  
“My son...” She gazed at Kaz, tears in her eyes. “Where’s Naj? I want to see him. Saints, it’s been so long… what if he doesn’t remember me? What if he doesn’t even know who I am?” Her voice was tinged with hysteria, and my heart went out to her.  
  
“He remembers you,” I said quietly.  
  
She wiped at her eyes. “I… think we need to talk.”  
  
“Alone,” Kaz rapped out. His eyes were riveted on Inej, and now he looked angry.  
  
She winced a bit.  
  
I inclined my head and stalked off, waves of bitter jealousy pulsing through me. How I ever thought this was a good idea was beyond me. I had ruined my own happine-  
  
In the heat of my anger, I almost ran into Naj.  
  
_He has her eyes,_ I thought faintly.  
  
I never realized until now.   
  
“Ma? Are you alright?” He was holding a book in one hand and was staring at me with concern.  
  
I opened my mouth. I didn’t know what to say. I just had to tell him now. “Naj,” I began shakily, “I love you, and I’ve always- always- seen you as my son.”  
  
He blinked. “Alright?...”  
  
I was horrified to feel tears clogging my throat, but I pushed them down and I reached out to gripped his arms tightly, “I’ve done terrible things in my life, Naj- awful, horrible things- but raising you was the thing I am most proud of.”  
  
Naj stepped closer. “Ma. What’s going on?”  
  
“Your mother is here.”  
  
Total shock was written across his face, and for a second I was worried for him. “Here?” His voice was faint. “Now?”  
  
“Yes.” I held his arm, hard, and made him look at me. “She’s here, and she wants to see her boy.” My voice quavered at that part. I jerked my head behind me. “Go to her. Listen to what she has to say. She’s your mother too.”  
  
He looked dazed. “I barely even remember her voice.” He shook his head hard, pale as a ghost. “I don’t know what to say to her, Ama.” He hadn’t called me that in years.  
  
“Just talk to her, Love. She’s waited a long time to see you,” I said.  
  
He looked away from me to the room.  
  
I smoothed back his unruly black hair with my fingertips, pressing my lips together. Kaz and Naj- my family- my life- were going to be taken away.  
  
What had I done?  
  
My vision blurred as I tried to tamp down my panic and despair.  
  
He hugged me fiercely, and I closed my eyes to keep myself from unraveling. “You aren’t losing me, Ama,” he swore. “You aren’t.”  
  
I nodded, unable to speak. I pulled back and pushed him in the direction of the door. “Don’t be afraid of being afraid, my love,” I whispered. “Alright?”  
  
“Alright.” He smiled slightly and I tried to return it.  
  
The door loomed before us, and I stepped away. “Go on.”  
  
He took a deep breath and opened the door, walking in.  
  
I hurried away- to my old room with its tiny, comforting bed and its solid, locked door- and when I made sure no one could hear me, I buried my face in my hands, and I cried.  
  
My hand strayed to my locket, and the tears that rolled down my face made my hair sticky and cold. I had ruined my own happiness. Wasn’t this what I had wanted? Wasn’t this what I had fought to do? And now that it happened, I wished I had never made Kaz give me that knife. I wished I hadn’t gotten sick. I wished I could have let well enough alone.  
  
I guess I never learned that you never get what you wished.  
  
You get what you asked for.  
...

(Naj)  
  
“Mother?” Naj stood in the doorway: so, so tall. So grown up. His dark eyes were disbelieving; cautious; hopeful; gutted.  
  
“Naj?” Inej stared him as if he were a wraith himself. “My little Naj?”  
  
His eyes darted to his father, who nodded slowly, eyes bright and alive with pure, unadulterated _happiness_ ; he’d never seen his father look like that before: in his world, Kaz Brekker was the shadows in a darkened alley, and now, with Inej Ghafa at his side, he’d become the sun.  
  
“Where were you,” he said blankly.  
  
His father’s eyes flashed to him, hard and accusing, and by the look on his mother’s face, he might as well have run her through with her own knives.  
  
“Sorry,” he mumbled, “I just...” Shock had wiped his mind clean of anything but that one question, and now, he was empty. “Sorry.”  
  
“No. You have… _nothing_ …to apologize for.” She was truly crying, now, and suddenly he found it hard to swallow. “Nothing at all.”  
  
His father- _Kaz Brekker of Ketterdam_ \- wrapped his arm around this shaking woman in a way he had never done for his mother, and she seemed to sink into him, overcome with all that gaped between them. She was tiny beside him: not like Ma, whose height made her a figure that rivaled even his father’s formidable presence. His birthmother was…Less familiar. Infinitely more uncertain. The last time he remembered her she had towered above him, and now he was startled to see how small and slight she was; how fragile: like the slightest breeze could send her sailing away all over again.  
  
He didn’t know what to make of her.  
  
A part of him- the little boy who had once called her Mama- hurt to see her so fragile, but he couldn’t help but be slightly… bothered… by how his father held her. He’d never seen Da hold his mother with such care; look at her with such unguarded tenderness.  
  
It made him want to look away.  
  
“You’re here, now?” He asked haltingly. “For good?”  
  
She nodded, eyes filled with tears and love.  
  
And suddenly he was reaching for her, and then her arms were around him with a soft sob.  
  
“Naj,” she said, “Naj.” She clung to him and wept, and the coarse curling of her hair smelled like salt and open air; tears and joy.  
  
A small, buried part of him raised its head at the smell- drank it in like a man starved- but the largest part of him felt oddly detached, because he couldn’t find the warm spices, the fiery peppers, the smoke from the stove or the smell of hot tea. He found Inej, not Ma. The child inside him- the child that had cried when Mama had gone- felt dizzy with happiness, but the man he was becoming sensed that loving Inej Ghafa would not be as easy for him as it was for his father.  
  
...  
  
(Meiyu) 

The sun had set, and I woke to the dark.  
  
I should have felt hungry, but instead, I felt hollow.  
  
I glanced at my reflection in the mirror and cringed. My grey, brittle hair stood out like a sore thumb; dark rings highlighted the angry red of my eyes- and worse still, my eyelids were swollen and thick with tears. I had cried myself to sleep, and Saints, did I look it. Listless, I shuffled from the room, passing through the dark hall in a sad attempt to escape the prison that was my mind. Kaz’s office was lit from the inside, and I froze when I heard my name.  
  
“It was a business deal, nothing more. She needed legal protection; I wanted her to work for me. She wouldn’t sign the contract unless I guaranteed her free citizenship through marriage.” Kaz’s voice was tired.  
  
“Do you love her?”

Tense silence.

The Wraith cut just like her knives, it seemed. 

“She told me upfront she didn’t want love, and she means it,” he said carefully. “We’ve been together for over ten years, and...she’s a good person, Inej. Better than I ever deserved. She raised Naj like he was her own son, and he loves her.”  
  
“I know he does.” Her voice was sad. “But that’s not an answer, Kaz.”

  
_I shouldn’t be listening,_ I thought faintly _. Move, Meiyu… There's nothing for you here._  
  
I didn’t move. I couldn’t.

Betrayed by my own treacherous body. 

  
“Can I ask something?”  
  
“What is it?” He sounded wary.  
  
“She doesn’t like me much- and I can’t blame her- so why did she bring me back?”  
  
Kaz was quiet for a long time; too long. I could only imagine what he was trying to say. “A few years ago, I was shot,” he began. “I would have died, but she saved me. She saved me, and she’s been sick ever since.” His tone was pure fact, and though he spoke with perfect clarity, I didn’t need to see his face or be in the same room to hear the disgust and self-loathing that soured it. “She doesn't want Naj or I to be left alone if she dies. That's why she brought you back. She'll never admit it, but it kills her: the idea of leaving someone else behind. It's hurt her more than anything else has in her life." 

I almost made myself know, then. He had no right to tell her so much of my heart- no right at all!- but then Inej spoke, and I almost didn’t catch them.

“She loves you,” she concluded softly, “and you care for her. I can see it plain as day.”

  
He didn’t need to speak to confirm her statement.  
  
“You’ve made a life for yourself, Kaz.” The sorrow in her voice spoke of all the years between them, lost and never found. “I’m happy for you.”   
  
She made to stand up, and there was a grinding noise- Kaz- as if he had shot out of his chair.  
  
“You can’t leave me!” He burst out, and suddenly I heard the man he once was: furious and lost and in hopelessly love with a Suli wraith. "Not again."   
  
“You-“ Her words were cut off, and it took me a second to realize why.  
  
My stomach caved in.  
  
He was kissing her, I thought dully.  
  
And she was kissing him back.  
  
With that, I melted back into the shadows, returning to my room to find my candle underneath my pillow. The incense was nearly gone; the wax lumpy and deformed.  
  
Cheap, worthless, and utterly replaceable.  
  
Just like me.   
  
I walked over to the fireplace and tossed it in.  
  



	41. Who Do We Protect?

I crumpled up the note I had found, swallowing hard. 

It was unsigned and the letters themselves had been cut out of the newspaper and pasted together to form words. Disgusting, sickening words; words that made me shudder like a client whispering in my ear as he moved inside me. To be sure- I’d gotten letters like these before, but none were so… familiar. 

I rounded the corner to Kaz’s office, scowling blackly as he and Inej immediately leaned away from each other. Inej glanced away from him, face flushed ever so slightly. 

Fuck them all. 

I threw the note down onto his desk, completely ignoring Inej’s invasive presence. “I want Mulder dead,” I barked. “I don’t care how good a smuggler he is, I want him gone. Now.” 

Kaz looked up at me. “It took me years to get him in the Dregs-” 

“I don’t care. He’s more trouble than he’s worth.” 

Inej glanced between us. 

“He’s the only person who’s been able to successfully track down the last of the new Jurda parem. We can’t afford a single ounce of it in circulation. You know that.” 

“I know! But I can’t have him around. He’s... He…” I regulated my breathing so I seemed less frantic. I turned my gaze to my husband’s lover, cold and queenly. “Leave us.” 

She got up slowly, meeting my cold stare with one of her own. 

(If I weren’t so pissed, I would have admired her bravery.)

Still, she honored my command, and the door closed behind her with a soft snap. 

I looked at him, letting my guard down for the briefest moment. “Kaz. Please. I know Mulder’s important. I know the new Jurda is still the most dangerous illegal commodity out there, and it needs to be wiped from existence. But I can’t work with him. He’s been watching me. Sending me these… notes.” 

He unfolded them and read through them, eyes finding mine immediately. “You know this for sure-”

“Yes.”

“Meiyu. You've gotten these for years, from multiple sources, and none of them have been Mulder. I am not going to let you kill my best smuggler if you don’t know for sure.” 

I wanted to scream. “Alright, he didn’t sign his goddamn name if that’s what you mean, but I know it’s him!” I ran a hand along my veil. “Kaz. I don’t want him to be warned-I want him dead.”

He looked at me for a long time. “We can’t afford to lose him.”

The ground was crumbling beneath me. 

“You know what will happen if the jurda gets out again...” 

I shook my head at him, not wanting to hear it. 

“I will send him away. I will find whoever did this and stop them. I will do everything I can to ensure that he never comes anywhere near you- but I can’t kill him.” He gripped my hand in his, and I inhaled, shocked. “I’m sorry-” 

I yanked my hand away. “I don’t want to hear it!” I growled. 

“This is war, Meiyu-” 

“Don’t talk to me about war,” I snarled. “Don’t you dare.” 

We glared at each other until there was nothing left to say. 

“So he lives,” I said dully. 

“…Yes.” 

“If he was a client of Inej’s, would you let him live?”

His eyes turned black with fury. “Don’t.” 

I clenched my fists so hard they shook. “That’s the kind of man you’re choosing to save, Kaz. That’s what you’re choosing.” I shoved myself away from him, “Make sure I never get another one of these-“ I shook the note- “or him, again, or I swear by all that is holy I will rip his throat out with my own teeth!” I stalked away and slammed the door behind me.  
…

Kaz kept his promise: I never saw Mulder after that, nor did I receive a note. He did everything he could to separate me from him, but it wasn’t enough. 

Not by a long shot. 

Because it wasn’t just the fact that I- his wife- had been deemed less valuable in the long run. It was the fact that I couldn’t stop looking over my shoulder- the feeling that I didn’t feel safe anymore- that shook me the most. 

The weeks went by, and I came to the conclusion that three is truly an awful number. Kaz and Inej looked at me like I was a grenade ready to go off at the slightest movement, which was accurate: I couldn’t stand the sight of either of them. I had tried so hard to bring her back, and now that she was here, I could barely stand it. In a way, I was afraid of myself, because every time I looked at them, the dragon inside me snarled: aching to be released. 

When they were next to each other, it was as though they were two pieces of a puzzle that fell together perfectly, whereas I had been hammered in. 

I didn’t belong anymore. 

But did you ever? A voice whispered. 

My mood was blacker than ever, and I had decided to wear my ring as a statement. I reveled in the uncomfortable stares directed my way, because they proved that I existed. “I was here,” I wanted to shout. “I’ve been here for ten years!” 

Naj was clearly feeling the effects of our stand-off, and I began to feel remorse at putting him in a strained position. When I saw what my coldness was doing to him, all my resentment left me. 

All at once, I felt very tired.


	42. Conversations (Kaz)

“Nadir! Didn’t I tell you not to smoke that garbage?”

“What? I’m- Ow!- Ghezen, Ma! Do you have to do that?”

“Yes.” I heard her stomp on the cigarette. “Yes, I do.”

“It’s just jurda…”

“It’ll ruin your lungs. Believe me- I started when I was your age.”

“You smoked?”

“Yes, well, I did a lot of stupid things when I was young.”

“Huh.”

“…” 

“Ma?” 

“Yes, xingan?”

“How sick are you?” 

She laughed, but her breathing was labored. “Sick.”

“Da says it's bad…”

“Your Da says a lot of things.”

“Uh huh.” 

A sigh. “I’m sorry you heard your us arguing.” 

“It’s alright- you do it all the time.”

“We do, don’t we?” A small, weak laugh. “Ah, me. What a pair we make. All wrong.” 

“Why did you even get married in the first place?”

“Money,” she said immediately; then… Rare, unburdened laughter erupted from her like water from a spring, and Naj couldn’t seem to help but join in. 

“That’s awful, Ma.” 

“It’s the truth, though…Ghezen. He hated me, at first.” 

“He did?”

“Oh, yes,” she said easily. “I was…well. Me.” 

“And now?” He seemed wary. 

Her laughter died. “My mother had me when she was a girl,” she said instead. “She was heartsick for many years, and my father knew it, and married her anyways.” 

Naj was silent. 

I heard the rustle of her skirt as she rearranged herself. “I think they were happy, once. But the longer they were married, the worse it got. Every conversation became a battle, and when they didn’t fight, they ignored each other. It was...”

“Hard?” His voice was pointed. 

“…Yes.” The steel that crept into her voice matched his. “But they endured. They did what they had to do to survive.” 

Frustration made him growl. “Ghezen, can’t life be anything more than that?” 

“Not often.” 

The pause that followed was painfully long. 

“…Why did you even bring Inej back in the first place?” Naj said harshly. 

“You need your mother.” It sounded stiff and rehearsed. 

“She is not my mother,” he grit. 

Slowly, deliberately, I heard her rise from her seat. “Don’t ever say that again.” 

A strained silence billowed out like a fog. 

“Why do you even stay with him?” 

“I…” She sounded winded by his question. “For all his flaws, your father has been good to me,” she said haltingly. “He may not love me, but-” 

“Ma-“ 

“-No! What they have is not what the rest of us have.” Her words were ragged with emotion. “That’s just the way things are!”

“You said-“ 

“I don’t care what I said!” she snapped. 

He fell silent. 

She coughed slightly and cleared her throat. “This, Naj, is what passion is.” 

White-hot flame blasted across the room with a mighty heave. 

Naj yelped as it roared past him. 

The fire died with a snap. 

Meiyu’s tone was bland as porridge. “Not exactly what you were expecting, then?” 

“Ghezen’s shit, Ma!” Naj swore, angry and on his feet. “What the fuck?”

“Language, Nadir.”

I smelled singed hair and burnt wood. 

She settled back into her chair. “Passion is like wildfire: it burns away all your sense until your head’s as empty as a drum.” 

“Ma…not this again…”

“Now.” She blew a small tongue of flame and lit and candle, holding it up. “See this?”

“Yes…” he muttered reluctantly. 

“A candle may not be as exciting as a wildfire, but it will give you light in darkness, and warmth to tolerate the cold. It’s practical. It endures. And it is foolish to want anything more.” She blew the candle out and went back to reading. “All fire can burn, xingan. You’ll learn that someday.” 

Naj watched her with a heaviness he didn’t used to have. “I wish things were better.” 

Meiyu closed her book and exhaled quietly. “Do me a favor, yes?”

He listened wearily. 

“Never lose the ability to stand on your own two feet.” She spoke so quietly I almost didn’t hear, but her words blazed. “When there’s no one to save you, I want you to be able to save yourself. Don’t wait for a miracle. Don’t wait for love. Ni ting’dongma?”

“Ting’dong.” 

“Good.” Silent as a ghost, her shadow moved across the floorboards as she approached her son. “And one more thing.”

He looked up when her hand rested on his shoulder. 

“Don’t ask someone to marry you if you do not, and cannot, love them. Dui?”

“…Dui.” 

“I want you to be happy.” She sounded bone-weary. “Learn from my mistakes.”


	43. Confessions and The Sea

  
_Barefoot, I stood on a shore heaped with blankets of white sand that spilled between my toes like floured grit. The sound of the water flowed through me, steady as the blood in my veins, and I wondered how a place could be so beautiful and calm in such a world as this._  
  
 _“Is this what the sea should look like?” I said out loud._  
  
 _My brother snorted. “I guess..?”_  
  
 _“No,” I mused, scanning the horizon. “This water- it’s like…” I closed my eyes. “Glass.”_  
  
 _The waves seemed to murmur in agreement._  
  
 _I lowered myself down into the hard softness of the sand and let myself fall back to stare at the sky; it arched above me, a brilliant grey-blue shot through with filaments of ashy white clouds soft and fine as freshly carded wool. The line where the sea met the land was frothy and laced with foam; the water was green as the finest jade, veined with white. With a jolt, I realized my hair had grown; it rippled out from me in a spreading pool that glinted dully against the sand._  
  
 _“Look at that sky,” I breathed. I propped myself on my side and breathed in the salt and the sea, digging my fingers into the silky grit to scoop up a handful of sand. It slipped through my fingers, and I stilled when something small and prickly tickled my skin. A cricket. I gasped with joy._  
  
 _“You’re so weird, Mei.”_  
  
 _“Shi._ Wo’zao _.” Laughing, I flopped back onto the ground to sigh. “Ai,_ didi _! I don’t want to leave.”_  
  
 _Cricket flicked some sand at me, making me scowl. “You can’t keep coming here, Mei.”_  
  
 _I turned over and stared at my brother- but every time I tried to get a good look at him, a breeze blew through his form, blurring his face. “Why?” I asked._  
  
 _“You just can’t,” he repeated._  
  
 _I smirked. “Why- is this Heaven?”_  
  
 _He grinned._  
  
 _“Wait_ -“ I sat up, outraged _. “I’m_ dead _?!”_  
  
 _He rolled his eyes. “You’re not dead, alright?” he grumbled. “You just…can’t stay here.”_  
  
 _“Oh.” I laid my head back and exhaled. “Alright.”_  
  
 _A bony, painfully familiar weight nestled itself against my side, and when he finally settled down, I ran my hand through his wind-tousled locks and hummed. The sounds were so soothing, and the air was so sweet, I found myself slipping away from reality: from this… wonderfully peaceful strip of land that kissed the endless stretches of the ocean…._  
  
 _Cricket nudged me again. “You have to wake up, Meiyu.” His voice was quiet. “Wake up.”_  
 _…_  
  
A hand touched my shoulder. “Wake up, Meiyu.”  
  
I pretended not to hear. The dream was so lovely- I wanted to go back.  
  
The touch became a firm shake. “You need to wake up.”  
  
Feigning sleep, I forced myself to relax.  
  
“I know you can damn well hear me.” He spoke through clenched teeth, too angry to mask his frustration and worry.  
  
Thoroughly irritated by the shaking, I lifted my head- just an inch- and a vicious stab of pain dug into my temple. Irritated and fighting the throbbing pain behind my eyes, I curled into myself and let myself sink. “Leave me alone, Kaz.”  
  
“Meiyu. Stay awake.”  
  
I was already halfway asleep.  
  
“Meiyu. Meiyu…”  
  
…  
  
_The sharp bite of his voice began to fade, and now I found myself sitting on a frigid stone bridge- in Ketterdam!- my hands wrapped around a steaming cup of hot chocolate. It smelled so good- I hadn’t eaten all day- so, seeing no one, I gulped down the drink with gusto, barely even feeling the burn. The liquid settled in my stomach like a warm stone, and I smiled._  
  
 _“My brother’s worried about you,” Kaz called._  
  
 _The drink sloshed over my hand as I jumped. “Ghezen! How are you-“_  
  
 _“It’s Jordie.” A tall, wiry young man stood in front of me, smirking in a way that stole the breath from my lungs. All arrogance and business, he stuck out his hand. “Jordie Rietveld.”_  
  
 _My shock evaporated, and I slapped his hand away. “Meiyu Han. Now go away!”_  
  
 _His eyebrows went up. “You know me?”_  
  
 _“Of course I do!” I brandished my iron ring. “I’m your sister-in-law!”_  
  
 _“I’m aware.” He crossed his arms, a knowing look in his eye. “I’ll get right to the point: is there something you need to confess?”_  
  
 _“No!” I spat out the lie and grimaced at the aftertaste._  
  
 _“Right.” He didn’t look convinced. (Actually, he had that know-it-all Brekker look, and I hated it.) “Your soul found me, which means you’re either in love-” I sneered at that- “or you’re guilty.”_  
  
 _“I-“ I kicked myself for hesitating. Muffled voices echoed in the furthest parts of my head, but I shook them off angrily and burrowed deeper into my sleeping mind. “I’m not here to confess anything,” I said evenly. “Now go away. I’m trying to avoid any and all Brekkers at the moment.”_  
  
 _“Did you tell him about Inej’s curse?”_  
  
 _I dug my nails into my palm and tilted my chin up. “Who do you think revoked it?” I sneered._  
  
 _He reclined against the snow-dusted stone and breathed out a frosty fog, slowly. With the humor absent from his face, he didn’t seem so young anymore. “Strange, isn’t it? How powerful our words are. How they can change our lives with just a few sentences.”_  
  
 _When he finally looked at me, I felt as if the walls around my soul were nothing more than paper to be stripped away: brick by brick._  
  
You cannot lie to the dead, _I realized._ They see through you.  
  
They see everything.  
  
_“I don’t blame you for what you did,” he added. “I have a feeling Kaz would have done the same thing, if it were Naj.”_  
  
 _My mind went blank._  
  
 _My stomach plummeted- my heart tripped over itself._  
  
 _The air rushed out of me in one lifeless breath._  
  
 _Listless, I dropped next to him. Of all people to confess to, I supposed Kaz’s dead brother would keep his word. The dead don’t talk, do they? “Would it do any good? To tell him?”_  
  
 _He was silent for a moment, thinking. “My brother isn’t very forgiving,” he said at last._  
  
 _I choked on a bitter laugh. Gods. Even Jordie knew: Dirtyhands never,_ ever forgave _. Oh, yes, he would blame me- I had a hand in losing her, and for that, I would pay a thousand times over._  
  
 _“I’m not here to punish you,” he said quietly. “Really.”_  
  
 _My eyes closed in defeat._  
  
 _What else could I do, but say this truth out loud?_  
  
 _“YuYan prayed to Inej for so long,” I began._  
  
 _“She made herself sick with hoping,” I whispered. “And when no one came, she prayed even harder. She spent so long hoping she forgot to survive.” My hands shook as I wiped my eyes. “So I told her the truth. I told her that her Saint was a criminal: a prostitute turned pirate. I told her no one cared that we suffered, least of all Dirtyhand’s Queen. I told her the only person who would save her was herself. I was cruel, because I wanted her to live.“_  
  
 _“You were trying to save her,” he concluded._  
  
 _“Yes.” More wetness rolled down my cheek, so I lifted my burning eyes to stare at the cold, unforgiving sky above us. “And now she’s dead.” I stood up, then, and walked back down that bridge without looking at the brother of my husband. “It is only right that I will be joining her.”_  
  
 _“YuYan’s actions were her own, Meiyu.”_  
  
 _I felt myself stop. I gazed at this young man on the bridge: his lanky build, his thin face, and a phantom sadness took shame’s place. “You were just a boy,” I murmured. “You both were.”_  
  
 _The voice that emerged from was heavy with age and regret. “I should never have left him.”_  
  
 _I offered him a tiny, warped smile. “People we love don’t leave us, Jordie.”_  
  
 _He returned my smile. “Then I’ll be there, when you’re ready.”_  
  
 _I blinked._  
  
 _His lips turned up in the ghost of a smirk. “Would I lie to the Queen of Dragons?”_  
  
 _My mouth moved before I even realized it, and I said to my brother-in-law: “You Brekkers would lie to the Devil himself!”_  
  
 _He laughed at that, and for the first time in weeks, I smiled._  
  
 _Struck by a sudden urge to know my husband’s brother, I strode back to him and thrust out my hand before I could decide against it. “And it’s Meiyu, Jordie. Just Meiyu.”_  
  
 _He took my hand and shook it._  
  
 _I nodded once, turned on my heel, and left._  
  
 _…_  
  
It occurred to me as I walked: ever since YuYan died, an iron screw had been burrowing its way into my chest; years had come and gone, and though time heals all wounds, I had done everything I could to ignore it- because when I forgot to forget, the screw would slip past my ribs- puncture my lung- and I would suffocate.  
  
And yet, it occurred to me as I crossed that bridge:  
  
I could finally begin to breathe.  
  
  



	44. Waking Up (Year 10)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this contains some graphic violence/ references to sexual and mental abuse. This is probably the ugliest part of the story (Heck, as the author, it was painful for me to write!) but I wanted to bring some awareness of domestic abuse and the pressure so many women are under to stay with their partners for financial/social/religious reasons in spite of the horrors they endure. Meiyu may be a fictional character, but to many women, the abuse she faces is all too real. 
> 
> Anyways. Just... bear with me.

  
I didn’t know how long I could keep this up.  
  
I was getting sicker by the day. But that was secondary to what was in front of me now.  
  
I felt like I was with my first husband again, and all I could hear in my head was, “I’m the only one who’d love something like you. No one would ever want you, and no one ever will. You’re spoiled goods. Deficient.”  
  
Over and over these words tumbled in my head.  
  
_Deficient._  
  
I looked at myself, and I began to accept the idea that I _was_ deficient, that I was _never_ wanted, and that I _never_ would be. I was just an obstacle. I didn’t belong.  
  
Sometimes I managed to bring myself to talk to Naj, but I didn’t want to burden him with my troubles. I saw how worried he was for me, but in the end, I was just another weight for him to carry. He was only fourteen. He shouldn’t have to waste his time watching over someone like me.

I was a mess. A disaster to be avoided.

  
Weeks became months, and I kept working, day in and day out. I Cursed and Cursed and I didn’t feel a thing. The sickness inside me grew like cancer. The drugs became a continuous stream. By now, I knew I was dying- I could feel every time my body failed me- and when I was dead, and Kaz would have his Wraith, and all would be as it once was.  
  
The bitterness of that truth choked me. I closed myself off from everyone but Naj. Kaz, Wylan, Jesper, Nina- even Inej-they would try to speak to me, but I just told them I was fine.  
  
Leave me alone, is what I meant.  
  
_Leave me the fuck alone._  
  
Anger only got me concern.  
  
Sadness only got me pity.  
  
So I let go of my anger.  
  
And my sadness.  
  
And I just… existed.  
  
I didn’t feel much of anything. It was like I was walking with lead-lined clothing; every step, every movement, was a struggle. I think the only reason I didn’t fade away was because I had a purpose in the Barrel: criminals to Curse, people to protect, work to be done. I had a son, a daughter- a _people_ \- to stay alive for, but one was no longer mine and the other was far away. Eventually, I just didn’t see the point of caring anymore, because caring got me into this whole mess in the first place. Life is more than love or happiness; sometimes it is simply…existing.  
…  
  
And then…  
  
And then, I was yanked from my daze by a gun to my head.  
  
My neck throbbed from where the assassin had yanked the needle out.  
  
_Betrayed,_ my mind whispered.  
  
_Betrayed._  
  
The drugs made my magic feel like icy slush in my veins: slow and numbing. My whole body felt too big for its skin; everything felt wrong, all wrong-  
  
I gasped as the man dragged me to my feet by my hair. “So this is Brekker’s bitch,” he mused.  
  
“Don’t touch her.” Kaz sounded livid.  
  
My head lolled uselessly as I tried to shove him away.  
  
“Someone’s been planning this for a long, long time.” He looked down at me, an awful smiling curling across his face. “It’s poetic, really.” He raised his fist, opening it just for me to see.  
  
A Curse. A small one, but a Curse.  
  
My eyes widened.  
  
“Wang T’Ling sends her regards,” he purred.  
  
I blacked out to the sound of Kaz’s roar.  
  
…  
 _I was fourteen years old._  
  
 _My husband had started giving me to his friends to pay his debts. He said he’d stop, but months had come and gone, and now, I couldn’t do it anymore._  
  
 _So I knelt at the feet of my mother and father, and I let myself beg._  
  
 _“Don’t make me go back.” I didn’t even try to hide my tears. “Please, Mama. Don’t make me…”_  
  
 _Father couldn’t even look at me._  
  
 _Mother towered over me. “Was it not you who asked to be married?-“_  
  
 _“-Yes Mama-“_  
  
 _“-To be of use to the family?”_  
  
 _“Yes, but-“_  
  
 _“Enough.”_ Her face was stony. _“You are a whore, Meiyu-”_  
  
 _“They_ rape me _, Mama!”_  
  
 _My mother’s fingers went white on the doorframe. “You lie-“_  
  
 _“I DON’T!” I screamed, sounding madder than ever. “Gods save me I don’t-“_  
  
 _“-Your husband is a good man.” She spoke loud over my protests without ever meeting my gaze. Her eyes looked past me, as if I didn’t exist. “He loves you, and he said he’d take care of you. You dishonor him with your filthy ways.”_  
  
 _Her words were layered thick with denial, and I swallowed. She didn’t believe me. No one did._  
  
 _There was no mother to hold me- no father to protect me- and I was alone._  
  
 _Alone._  
  
 _I sunk to the ground, and my tears mixed with the earth to make a salty mud._  
  
 _“Get up.” For once, Mother’s eyes were hard and clear as yellow diamonds, but even when her foot connected with my ribs, I didn’t feel it. “Get up!”_  
  
 _Out of instinct, my hands and knees pushed me upright, all on their own._  
  
 _Her fingers were manacles that closed around my arm, and distantly, I felt myself be yanked close, and now she whispered something I’ll never forget._  
  
 _“Love makes him weak,” she breathed. “Be strong, Meiyu, or die.” She shoved me away, but the words stayed with me: a poisoned seed planted in the core of my heart._  
  
 _“Mei?”_  
  
 _A piece of my heart cracked as I saw my brother- the boy who I practically raised- becoming a man who I would soon no longer know._  
  
Love makes you weak, _a voice whispered._  
  
 _So I turned my back and walked away._  
  
 _“Mei?”_  
  
 _The hurt and confusion in his voice made my stomach hurt, so I walked faster…_  
  
 _And faster…_  
  
 _And-_  
  
 _“Wait!” he shouted. A small, thin body hurled itself into me- making me stagger and turn. “Take me with you!” he yelled._  
  
 _I tried to push him from me, and he held on, even as my father came marching towards us._  
  
 _“_ Let go _,” I ordered._  
  
 _“No,” he snapped._  
  
 _Tight-lipped and out of options, I slapped him as hard as I could allow- but he only grit his teeth and dug his fingers harder into the flesh of my arms._  
  
 _It was my father who pried Cricket from me; my mother couldn’t seem to move._  
  
 _Cricket howled as he was wrenched back. He wriggled and thrashed- pummeling Father with his bony fists- all the while screaming, “No! No! I want Mei! I want Mei!-“_  
  
 _I saw Father’s hand swing back to strike my brother, and suddenly my talons were pushing out to slash his clear across the face._  
  
 _His yell of pain made us all freeze._  
  
 _Calmly, I pushed Cricket behind me and told my Father, “Touch him again, and you die.”_  
  
 _Drops of red dripped onto the white snow, as Father stood there, wide-eyed. His hand rose to touch the deep gouges as if in a dream, and the shaking fingers came away wet with blood. Neither he nor Mother dared approach me now._  
  
 _When I took my brother’s tearstained face in my bloodied hands, his gaze never left mine. “I have to go now,” I said shakily. My voice was harsh with the tears I could not- would not- shed. “Don’t forget me, alright?”_  
  
 _He nodded jerkily._  
  
 _Somehow, I stepped back and made my way back down the dirt path, my head held high._  
  
 _I was a dragon. I was a princess. I was steel. I was stone._  
  
 _“We have no daughter,” I heard my Father say to my Mother. “Our daughter is dead.”_  
  
 _Yes,_ I thought. _She is._  
 _…_  
  
 _And then it was the day of the raid, and I shoved my Cricket away from the gunfire and screamed: RUN!- the bridge- GO!- Don’t stop - RUN!-_  
  
 _And then he ran- chaotic- both of us dodging bullets and fallen bodies–_  
  
 _-Sprinting, stumbling, staggering-TOO CLOSE- and then-_  
  
 _-The telltale whistle-_  
  
 _I threw myself to the side-_  
  
 ** _BOOM!_**  
  
 _My ears rang with white shock as red fell in a spray of bloody mist, peppering me with its flecks._  
  
Red _, I thought blankly, watching it fall._ Red. Red. So much re-  
  
 _Something wet trickled down the side of my face, and I swiped it away; rubbed my fingers clean on my skirt. Head still buzzing, I looked around, and there he was: my baby brother._  
  
 _Dead._  
  
 _I crawled towards him. Pulled him into my lap._  
  
 _No._  
  
 _Uncomprehending, I blinked down at his glassy doll’s eyes._  
  
It’s all my fault _, I thought blankly._ It’s all my fault _._  
  
 _Something inside me snapped._  
  
_The only sound I heard was the beating of my heart._  
  
My-fault.  
  
My-fault.  
  
My-fault  
  
_And then I screamed._  
  
 _For the first time in my life, I let myself howl, because my brother was dead, and I was alone._  
  
ALONE **.**  
 _…_  
  
I felt myself twitch awake, screaming in a way I hadn’t since the death of my daughter.  
  
My gaze slid up- up- to the man with the cane and the woman beside him, and I saw tears reflected in her eyes. His were dark: dark and furious and fractured.  
  
“Stop,” he said, never taking his eyes off me. “Just stop. Please.”  
  
Kaz. This was Kaz.  
  
The cruel man smiled down at me, and he took a step back.  
  
Abandoned, the cane clattered to the floor, and Kaz was kneeling before me.  
  
My screams dissolved into tears.  
  
I clutched his arms to keep myself afloat, because my grief was an ocean, and I drowned. Shaking, I pressed my hand against the knife hidden at his heart and spoke to him in the language that would die with me. _“Do it fast,”_ I breathed _._ “ _Please.”_  
  
He tightened his grip on me as the meaning hit him.  
  
“ _Please_.”  
  
The world stuttered as the magic took hold.  
  
Kaz was hauled back and felled with a brutal blow to his bad leg.  
  
“Ready for another, Cursemaker?”  
  
I met his gaze. “You should have killed me,” I whispered.  
  
_Oh, yes_ , I decided. _I would make him scream before he died._  
  
The stranger’s smile only widened.  
  
My vision flickered out, and I was sucked back into Hell.  
  
…  
  
_I was sixteen years old and pregnant for the third time._  
  
 _My husband was standing at the door, cane in hand. He was drunk. I could see it in his eyes; in the way he held himself. He had lost again, too. He always lost._  
  
 _The yellow light of our tallow candles only made the shadows blacker, the dark deeper._  
  
 _“You’ll be with Shangli today. Do what he wants, Meiyu.” His voice was tired. Almost apologetic._  
  
 _All I could do was open and close my mouth like a fish. “But…You said…you wouldn’t.” My voice was so small. A mouse’s squeak._  
  
 _“Well, I lied,” he sneered. He stalked in and set down at the table, glowering at the wood. “Wash yourself. No one would want to touch you looking like that.”_  
  
 _I nodded, numb._  
  
 _“And hide those disgusting feet. You’re ugly enough,” he barked, rubbing his eyes as if the sight of them made him sick._  
  
 _Instinctively I shuffled my large, unbound feet under my skirt._  
  
 _“I’m hungry,” he muttered. His yellowed-wolf teeth flashed. “Where’s the damned food?”_  
  
 _“We ran out yesterday,” I whispered, clutching my hands to my swollen stomach. I didn’t meet his sullen glare. “When is he coming?”_  
  
 _“Half an hour.”_  
  
 _A wave of dizziness hit me. Thirty minutes. That’s all I had before-_  
  
 _Pure, mindless fear crawled its way up my throat, and I fought the urge to be sick._  
  
 _I pressed my lips together so hard they turned white, shivering, choking in silence._  
  
 _His lip curled in disgust, and he walked over to me. “You pathetic…” His hand shot out, wrapping around my hair, and it felt like my scalp was separating from my skull. “Are you trying to say something?” He asked, eyes dark as a snake._  
  
 _“I…” I gulped. “I-“_  
  
 _“Stop stuttering, you worthless slut.”_  
  
 _“The baby.” I clenched my eyes shut, willing my voice to remain steady. “You said-”_  
  
 _“What?” He slapped me so hard my teeth rattled, “Are you calling me a liar?” He growled, his voice rising with every word. “Is that what you’re trying to say?”_  
  
 _I felt my pupils dilate. “N-n-no-“_  
  
 _This time his fist came swinging down, and an explosion of pure pain detonated behind my eye. Something hot ran down my face. He must have been exceptionally drunk to hit me in such an obvious spot. Stars danced across my vision, and I curled into a ball to protect my child._  
  
 _The smell the sour liquor invaded my nostrils as he yanked me close, shaking me like a dog. “You do what I say, because I am your HUSBAND,” he roared._  
  
 _“I know! I know!” I sobbed. “I’m sorry!”_  
  
 _“Shut up.” He threw me to the ground by my hair, and I crawled away like the worm I was._  
  
 _But then I felt him climb on top of me, and then my skirts were being pushed up, and I would have cried if I had any strength in me. He fisted my hair to hold me still, wrapping one scar-flecked around my neck to choke me into obedient silence. “I don’t like his hands on you,” he growled. His belt clinked as it was undone. “You’re mine, Meiyu. Mine.”_  
  
 _I didn’t answer._  
  
 _I just lay my head to the side, and waited._  
  
 _He pushed inside with a pained grunt, and while he rutted and panted and ground me into the dirt I let the biggest part of my mind go dark; the rest of it kept my heart beating; pumped air in and out; held me still. The rest let me disappear._  
 _Sometimes, I pretended that I was watching it happen from high above._  
  
 _Sometimes, I almost believed it._  
  
 _Soon it was over, and he pushed himself off me, disgusted and out of breath. “Get up.”_  
  
 _I pulled my skirts down mechanically and rose to my feet, swaying._  
  
 _“I told you to shut up, and you didn’t.” Deliberately, he picked his cane and up and walked towards me, calm as can be. “Why couldn’t you have listened, Meiyu?”_  
  
 _All I could do was sink back to the ground, arms wrapped around my curved belly. “I’m sorry,” I pleaded. “_ _Please. I’m sorry.”_  
  
 _He knelt down, holding my face in his hands. “I know you are.” Tenderly, he wiped my tears away, and it took every cell in my body not to cringe as his thumb brushed again my swelling eye. “I’m doing this because I love you, Meiyu. You know that, right?”_  
  
 _More tears slipped down my face._  
  
 _I nodded mutely._  
  
 _His lips touched my forehead, dry and cracked, and I closed my eyes, repulsed. “I’m the only one who will ever love something like you.”_  
  
 _He rose up, and I braced myself for the pain I knew I deserved._  
  
 _CRACK._  
  
 _The cane rose and fell._  
  
 _CRACK._  
  
 _Rose and fell._  
  
 _It went on and on until I doubled over with a moan, liquid running down my legs._  
  
 _Too soon. Too soon._  
  
 _The child was going to die._  
  
 _A small, broken part rejoiced: because now, they could be free._  
  
Heaven was kind to children _, I thought._  
  
 _CRACK._  
  
 _CRACK._  
  
 _CRACK._  
 _…_  
  
My eyes flew open, my breaths sawing out of me with brutal, frantic heaves.  
  
Realizations stacked on top of each other like coins.  
  
I wasn’t in Shu Han.  
  
I was in Ketterdam.  
  
It was a memory, no more.  
  
I realized I lay on the floor in a pool of my own tears and blood, curled into the fetal position. My whole body felt bloodied.  
  
I tried to move, and felt the pain seize me in an iron grip.  
  
The assassin kneeled down next to me, Kaz’s cane in his hand. “Well, that was a lot more interesting than I thought it would be,” he remarked. His voice turned mocking. “Who knew the Blood Dragon began as _that_?”  
  
My fingers twitched, and I didn’t answer.  
  
“You must have been perfect for the House,” he continued. “Your husband was a brute, but from what I saw, he certainly prepared you for the life of a whore.”  
  
He’d seen it, I realized. They all had seen it. The worst part of my life- the things I had never shown anyone- and he’d projected it so that the whole room could see.  
  
I wanted to die.  
  
He twirled the cane, admiring the balance. “I thought I might make it more realistic.”  
  
My eyes slid to Kaz and his agonized expression, to Inej, and her sickened, pitying one. I lay my head back down, too far-gone to care.  
  
“You must have been a child when they handed you over to that rutting pig.” He bent down next to me, turning my face to him. “How old were you then? Fourteen? Fifteen?” Pure mockery dripped from him.  
  
His hand was just in my reach.  
  
A slow, rabid fury moved through me, and with a jerk and a snap, I bit clean through his fingers.  
  
Blood rained down onto the floor.  
  
He bellowed in shock and pain, and used the opportunity to launched myself at his stumbling form, jaws snapping close around his forearm, teeth tearing into muscle and flesh before-  
  
A teeth-jarring _thud_.  
  
The world went dark.  
  
When I came to I saw his white, furious face looking down at me as he cradled the stumps of his fingers and the ragged meat of his arm. “I think I know the best place to do this,” he said coldly. His good hand tightened around the cane, preparing to strike.  
  
I closed my eyes just as the cane came whistling down on my bad wrist, shattering it again.  
  
I couldn’t tell if it was Kaz or me who screamed.  
  
Blinding agony exploded behind my eyes and my vision went white for a moment.  
  
I opened my eyes, only to close them again, moaning. I lifted my hand to look at it, and immediately looked away, nauseous, as I saw the twisted, swollen mass that was my wrist.  
  
“Get up.” The man grabbed me by the neck and hauled me to my feet, choking.  
  
I cradled my hand to me like an injured animal, dizzy with pain.  
  
The pistol glinted coldly as it leveled with my skull, pressing against the side.  
  
The click of the safety seemed to echo in the empty room.  
  
“Stop.”  
  
We both looked over at Kaz.  
  
“Please. Don’t hurt her anymore.”  
  
Dirtyhands didn’t beg. But my husband did.  
  
“Kill me if you want, but leave her out of this.”  
  
His eyes slid to Inej. “I could kill her, if you wanted.”  
  
Kaz went deathly still.  
  
“I’m giving you a choice,” he explained, “which is more than you deserve, really.” The assassin’s smile was full of poison and shards of glass. “I may pull the trigger, but you, sir, are the executioner.” The smile that followed was twisted. “And let’s keep this brief, shall we? After all, we both know the obvious choice,” he laughed.  
  
The cruelty of his words bit deeper than the gun ever could.  
  
I stared groggily ahead, expressionless. Words were useless. All I could do what look at my husband and the love of his life. Inej Ghafa. His Queen. His soulmate.  
  
For a moment, I hated them all.   
  
“So, Brekker, which one is the spare?”  
  
Kaz didn’t answer.  
  
“I can decide for you,” he shrugged.  
  
The pistol shifted away.  
  
I blinked as the bullet shot a hair's breadth from my head.  
  
“That was your first and only warning.” The gun turned on Inej. “Choose.”  
  
We all were frozen in place.  
  
“But before you do,” the man added matter-of-factly, and I froze, “but did your lovely Cursemaker wife ever tell you _why_ her cousin, YuYan the Black, Cursed Inej? Did she ever tell you how she whispered poison in her ear, all those years ago; how she revealed your Wraith to be a false saint; how she taught the child to hate her very name? No?”  
  
Kaz stared at me like I was a stranger, and I stared back, begging for a glimmer of hope; a sign that ten years together had meant something.  
  
But when the gun was pressed into the back of my head, he did nothing.  
  
Nothing.  
  
“That’s what I thought.”  
  
I sank to my knees, lightheaded.  
  
He was going to let me die.  
  
“Gods forgive me,” I whispered. In the back of my mind, I heard Kaz begin to struggle- to yell- but what he didn’t see was it had always been too late to save someone as monstrous as me. If this was the end, then I would go to death with honor. With dignity. I closed my eyes and let my prayers float up to Heaven. “Gods forgive me…”  
  
Kaz roared, and the shot reverberated through me.  
  
But no pain.  
  
No pain except the syringe, which I had long slipped from his careless grasp and buried in my thigh: returning my magic in one mighty surge.  
  
I opened my eyes, and the dragon awoke.  
  
The assassin’s smirk fell away to reveal something like terror as the gun flew out of his hand and hit the wall.  
  
“You.” I rose to my feet as all my betrayal- all pain and all my misery- fixed on my husband. “ _You_ …” I doubled over to clutch my head, twitching as the drugs turned to fire in my veins, burning away like gas ignited. My moan rose to a shriek that deepened into an animal roar.  
  
Inej’s eyes widened.  
  
Kaz started shouting at me, begging me to stay with him, but I felt the primal call was thrumming through my veins: pumping me full of power and vicious rage. My vision bled black and I crumpled to the floor, convulsing.  
  
My bones cracked.  
  
My vertebrae popped.  
  
My talons that raked furrows through the wood with a screech, and when my head snapped up, viscous black liquid was dripping from my eyes- tumbling down my face in inky rivulets.  
  
Another shot rang out.  
  
And another. And another.  
  
Bullets glinted like rain-turned-metal.  
  
I reached a claw out and plucked on from the air.   
  
“They gave me sedative,” he said faintly.  
  
I crushed the pellet in my hand and watched the metal drip and sizzle to the floor.  
  
“They said it would work.” Panic crept into his voice.   
  
I smiled, and my magic exploded from me in one great blast.  
  
It spun through the air: twisting into pointed javelins that ran him through with savage thrusts- one at a time- before heating like pokers in a fire. Slowly, he rose in the air. Skin crackled. Blood fizzed. The rich, lovely smell of roasting meat wafted off him.  
  
Unsurprisingly, he blacked out from the pain, but I brought him back.  
  
I brought him back, and oh, how he _shrieked_.  
  
Impassive, I let him drop to the ground, unsheathing my knife so I could set to work. It was easy. So, so easy. After all: I knew meat. I knew which cuts were the best; which parts were the quickest; which bones were the hardest the break. “My fist husband was a butcher,” I explained over the noise. “Would you like to know what he taught me?”  
  
Blood trickled down his chin as he gurgled.  
  
“He taught me,” I continued, “that a human is not so different than a pig.”  
  
My blade descended, and the next rounds of screams were far more satisfying.  
  
“I could make this last for days,” I said conversationally, flicking bloodied tissue from my blade’s edge before leaning back down. “You wouldn’t die, of course,” I told him over his cries. “I could keep you alive- in pieces, that is.”  
  
He moaned.  
  
“Just…” I cut. “Like…” I peeled. “This.”  
  
The moans escalated until I crushed his throat with my foot.  
  
“Now.” I sat back and reveled in the way he twitched. His body was a writhing, oozing mess- an agonizingly beautiful sight, to be sure- but even so… I found the monster inside me becoming horribly, inexplicably _bored_. Sighing, I turned his face to me with my blood-slicked blade and made him look at me. “Would you like to die?” I asked mildly.  
  
He sobbed.  
  
“Shhh…” The flecks of blood smeared down his cheek as I caressed it. “You need only ask.”  
  
More broken moans.  
  
“Say, ‘Please’,” I purred.  
  
“Please,” he choked.   
  
I smiled at him with all the kindness a shriveled, ugly monster can manage. “No.” And then I put my hands on each side of his face, and I tore through his memories: bringing each horror and misery rising to the surface to play it over and over again.  
  
He wept like a child, and though it was beautiful, it wasn’t enough.  
  
Not after what he’d done to me.  
  
So I leaned back, and offered him the handle of the knife. “Here.”  
  
He blinked up at me, uncomprehending.  
  
Gently, I placed the knife in his twitching fingers, curling them around the hilt. “It is only right.”  
  
Without a moment’s hesitation, he stabbed himself in the heart…  
  
…only to gape, helplessly, as it continued to beat.  
  
He tried again, and again, and again, before the knife finally fell from his nerveless hands with a flat, heavy clatter. A shattered, bleeding shell gaped up at me: eyes glassy. Mouth slack.  
  
Broken.  
  
Leisurely, I picked the blade up and walked towards him with slow, unhurried steps. “Now, now,” I chided. “I never said you’d be the one to do it.” Fast as a viper, I seized him by the throat with my claws and whipped his head to the side, snapping his spine like I would any other prey.  
  
The bones cracked _,_ and I let him crumple to the ground, his neck bent at an unnatural angle.  
  
And all was quiet.  
  
I admired his mangled remains. “A quick death,” I mused. Content, I turned to the two humans and smiled. “Am I not kind?”  
  
The female looked appalled.   
  
“Meiyu.” The man’s voice was stark against the night.  
  
My head snapped around, and I saw him. The mortal Thief. The traitor, whose very name meant _Breaker_. I approached this bold male and tipped his chin up with one bloodstained claw. “Yes, _husband_?” I replied sardonically.  
  
He might have flinched, but I didn’t care.  
  
Unbothered by his reaction, I glanced at the woman, reckless and beyond caring. “It’s true, Wraith: my cousin was the one who Cursed you.” I didn’t need to look at the male to feel his dawning betrayal. “We were slaves on the _Offra_ , and she thought you’d save her. She thought you cared. You see, Yuyan was a little girl; she didn’t understand what it meant to be forgotten. Forsaken by her Saint. It killed her, Wraith. Hope killed her, so I snuffed it out.”  
  
“I thought-“  
  
“Oh, yes: you brought the _Offra_ down- but not before we were taken.” I smiled pityingly at her strickened expression. “People always slip through the cracks. That is the way of this world. Unfortunately for you, my five-year-old, _Cursemaker_ cousin was one of those.”  
  
My words seemed to have rendered her speechless.  
  
“It was your fault.” The male who stared at the floor, emotionless. “All of it.”  
  
“I did what I had to to survive; same as you.” My claws dug into his jaw, forcing him to meet my gaze. “YuYan might have cast the Curse, but you still blame me, don’t you?”  
  
The wrath wavered, but only slightly, before-  
  
“Yes.”  
  
Such a quick, simple word: three letters, one syllable. And yet, that one syllable formed one word that became one blade sliding between the ribs. It sank through the muscles in my chest and pierced my lungs, letting the air escape with the barest of shudders.  
  
That word- it took my breath away.  
  
It stopped the beat from my heart.  
  
“Well then.” My voice was calm. “You should have killed me when I asked.”  
  
His eyes flickered down.  
  
I prepared to stab him through the chest with a bolt of magic when the woman suddenly stood- stood between us- _shielding_ him from my wrath.  
  
My lips curled in displeasure. “I have no wish to kill you, Inej Ghafa.”  
  
“Please.” The woman spoke to me, soft but resolute. “Please, don’t hurt him-“  
  
“Hurt?” I spat. Not an ounce of pity lived inside me when I met her gaze. “I’ve been hurt my whole life, Wraith. Why should he be any different?”  
  
“Don’t be-” he rasped.  
  
“What?” I rounded on him so fast he fell silent. “Who are you to tell me what I can and cannot be?” I demanded. My magic pulsed and grew, twisting into a knife’s blade that I wrapped around my hand. “Who are _you_ to tell me _anything_?”  
  
“Let me help you.”  
  
I sneered. _Help me_. What could he do to help me now? What could anyone do?  
  
“This is killing her,” the woman suddenly said. “Isn’t it?”  
  
Unblinking, I turned my gaze to her, and just like that, the blinding anger receded like broken waves on the shore. “She’s not well,” I said. “If I let go, she may not survive the shock.”  
  
The man looked beyond the beast and into Meiyu. “She can survive this.”  
  
_“_ She can, but she doesn’t want to _.”_ There was no warmth to be had in those words.  
  
“Let me talk to her.”  
  
Feeling her resistance to its hold, the creature began to gently release its grip on my conscienceless, because at its core, everything this terrible, brutal thing had done was to keep me alive. Keep me from breaking. “Then speak to her now,” it bade.  
  
I felt myself begin to unravel.  
  
Receding now, its gaze fell upon the woman, tinged with something akin to sorrow. “We became what we had to, Wraith.” The grip slackened. “This world makes monsters of us all.”  
  
The black fire that had blazed through my veins suddenly went out like a candle’s flame, and with a jolt, I became myself again.  
  
It was all I could do to sink to the ground and curl up into a ball, shivering. I tasted coppery blood, and when I retched, only black poison came out.  
  
The last of the creature’s presence: gone.  
  
Once my stomach had settled, I couldn’t even cry; I was so tired. The assassin had laid me bare, and now, my secrets hung exposed and bleeding for all to see.  
  
I felt sick.  
  
“Meiyu....” someone reached out to me...  
  
...And immediately backed away after meeting my eyes.   
  
I looked down at my body from a distance.  
  
What a sad, small figure I cut.   
  
“I’m going to my room.” Numbly I got to my feet, brushing off my skirt. A dark stain smeared across my fingertips; smudged the fabric when I tried to wipe it off.  
  
The assassin’s blood.  
  
My stomach flipped.  
  
Without a word, I wrapped my shawl around me and began walking back to my room: my steps robotic. How strange, that this all happened in our house; it didn’t seem real yet.  
  
Every eye in the room trailed me as I went.   
  
With shaking hands, I closed the door, filled the washing bowl with water, and dunked a rag in it. I sank onto my bed and began to mechanically scrub the stain off my skirt. The fabric was soft and the smell of charred skin and smoke made me nauseous. It was...spreading.  
  
My lungs shuddered.  
  
My scrubbing intensified.  
  
_Spreading. Scrubbing. Scrubbing. Smearing. Fabric tearing-_  
  
“Let me help you.”  
  
My fluttering hands stilled, clenching the fabric into a ball.  
  
“You’re hurt. You need a medik.” The Wraith stood in the doorway. Her voice was soft and human. After everything she’d done- everything she’d suffered- she was still _human_.  
  
I hated her with all my broken heart.  
  
A long silence passed.  
  
Footsteps slowly faded away until I could no longer sense her presence.  
  
And then Naj sat beside me.  
  
Relief and dread made me dizzy. He was safe. He had gotten away- and now he was back.  
  
“Ama?”  
  
I shook my head and continued scrubbing.  
No. He wasn’t my son, and I wasn’t his mother.  
  
“Ama?” His fingers brushed along the hot flesh of my wrist, and I tucked my shattered bone closer to me, but not fast enough to keep him from seeing the bruises- the crooked, swollen bone- the stripes down my back- and his eyes flew up to mine. “Who did this to you?” For the first time in his young life, he looked like he wanted to kill someone.  
  
He looked like _him_.  
  
Like me.  
  
I shuddered.  
  
“Ama.” He held my hand to stop their chaotic movement. “Ama. You’re scaring me,” he croaked.  
  
The fear and confusion in his voice tore me apart. I touched his face with my hand and brushed his hair back like when he was little. He had grown up so much. But then I blinked, and he seemed to flicker out like a candle’s flame. “Naj?” I frowned, and the frown turned into something uncertain and small. “You… you didn’t leave me, did you?”  
  
He squeezed my hand. “I’m right here.”  
  
“Good,” I sighed. “Good.” My brow furrowed, andI forgot what I was going to say again.  
  
Everything seemed so fuzzy. Everything kept slipping away.  
  
I met his gaze, and seeing her eyes in his face was like a bullet through the heart. “You deserved… so much better than me.” I placed one word in front of the other. It was a painstaking, slow process: like stacking bricks.  
  
“Don’t say that, Ama,” he begged.  
  
Salty wet dripped off my face.  
  
Someone’s footsteps stopped at the door.  
  
Panic seized me, so potent I couldn’t move. The words I was going to say became jumbled up in my head- as if a careless boy had come along and kicked them away like pebbles on the side of a road. “ _Shangli_?” I croaked. “Is he here?”  
  
Naj’s brow creased. “Who’s _Shangli_?”  
  
The air was knocked out of me at the name, and for a second I drowned in the memories. “Not now,” I breathed. “I can’t do it now.”  
  
“ _Shhh_ …” he hushed.  
  
I fought down a whimper, petrified.   
  
Naj wrapped his arms around me so tight the bruises along my ribs screamed, but it was a good kind of hurt; it told me I was safe. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”  
  
“You won’t?” I whispered. I sounded like a child to my own ears.  
  
“No. You’re safe.” A drop of water slipped down my son’s face in a long, hot trail, soaking through my shirt. “I _promise_.”  
  
His eyes burned into mine, and I believed him.  
  
I believed him, more than I had anyone in my life.  
  
“You’re safe,” he promised, blotting the tears off my face with his sleeve. “You’re never going to have to see him again.”  
  
I nodded again.  
  
And the words came creeping back into my head.  
  
“What was I saying, before?” I whispered.  
  
“You needed to tell me something, Ama.” His voice shook, but the words were steady.  
  
I nodded, twitching towards the dark figure at the door.  
  
They wouldn’t go away.  
  
I wished they’d go away.  
  
“I…” I trailed off again.   
  
Gone. The words were gone.  
  
For a moment, I was lost in the blackness; not for long.  
  
He waited, worry and confusion hovering around his eyes. “Ma?”  
  
A wave of dizziness hit me, and I gripped his hand to still myself. “When I was sixteen,” I said lowly, “my son was born too early, and died.”  
  
Naj rubbed his thumb over my knuckles.  
  
“He was small. Weak. Just a wisp of a thing.” I looked past him into the dark. “I could have saved him, but I didn’t. I let him die, Naj. My own son.”  
  
He couldn’t seem to breathe.  
  
“I thought he’d be better off. I thought I was saving him.” I shut my eyes. “But deep down, I think there was a tiny, horrible part of me that wanted to make my husband hurt. Wanted to deny him the one thing he’d always wanted, so he could feel just a fraction of what I felt. But once I did... I didn’t feel anything. I just wanted to die.”  
  
Naj’s eyes watered.  
  
“And then I saw a boy and girl, standing in front of me- and it was like everything just…stopped.” My voice was the faintest whisper. “People would say that… that… my mind had shattered; that I was going mad. But I knew _-_ I _knew_ \- they were real. I could feel it- and it was like…” I shook my head hard. “It made me feel… _alive_. It… made me _want_ to live. So I could see them someday. My children.”  
  
“Why, Ama?” he begged. “Why are you telling me this?”  
  
My brow furrowed. Why? That was a good question…  
  
I think… I think I told him this, because I wanted him to be happy; I wanted him to know what he meant to me. But all I said was, “My misery is enough.”   
  
“Naj.”  
  
I didn’t need to look at the face to recognize the voice.  
  
Kaz stood in the doorway.  
  
That was who it was.  
  
Kaz.  
  
“Naj,” he said.  
  
He clenched his teeth against his father’s call. “Leave me alone.” His brow furrowed as he took in my empty gaze. “Ama?”  
  
The little clarity I had reclaimed from talking with Naj slipped through my fingers like water, and I went back to staring. My throat worked, but nothing came out. I wanted to answer him, but it was becoming so hard…so very hard...  
  
“...Ama, can you hear me?” he begged.  
  
I couldn’t see him anymore. How strange. I blinked, unfocused. “Where am I?” Panic gripped me, and my hand leapt to my hair. “Where am I?” I repeated. My scales crawled across my neck, burning with memories, and I raked them away with my talons hard enough to draw blood.  
  
“Stop.” His hands pulled mine down, and I watched more of my hair tear from my scalp and fall to the floor. “Ma. _Stop_!” He looked terrified.  
  
“Meiyu…”  
  
Kaz tried to come towards me, and I lurched upright. “You…”  
  
Naj’s hand clutched my hand in desperation, coaxing me to calm, but he stumbled back as I shoved him off me and locked eyes with Kaz.  
  
A wild, uncontrollable feeling I hadn’t experienced since I a child rippled through me, and I watched as a single fleck of gold slipped from my grasp.  
  
The gold dissolved into the ground in a flash of white.  
  
The candles snuffed out.  
  
Kaz and Naj only had enough time to cover their ears before-  
  
_BOOM!_  
  
Every window on the street erupted into a spray of glittering dust.   
  
Naj swore as he felt the entire foundation shudder.  
  
Bewildered, ears ringing, I stood at the epicenter of all the destruction, breathing hard.  
  
“Ama?” Naj said carefully. He shook of Kaz’s warning hand and approached me like you would a spooked horse. “Are you alright?”  
  
My head pulsed in one horrible throb, and I wobbled.  
  
“Shh.” My son steadied me. Lowered me onto the bed. The moment I was still he tore his gaze from me and glared at his father. “Ghezen, Da- she could have brought down the whole house if you had gotten any nearer!-” I tried to I tried to touch his arm, but he shot out of his seat, voice rising to a ragged shout. “For fuck’s sake, Da! _Look_ at her! She can barely speak-!”  
  
“ _ENOUGH_.”  
  
I winced.  
  
Naj fell silent.  
  
Kaz leaned on his cane, suddenly towering over his son. “Your mother’s been tortured, and for her sake, I’m telling you to be a man and control yourself,” he said flatly.  
  
Naj opened his mouth furiously, but Kaz beat him to it.  
  
“I’m well aware that she’s suffering.” He spoke quieter now, but that didn’t make his words any less cutting. “But the more you shout and rage, the worse she’ll be. _Do you understand_?”  
  
“Yes, sir,” he whispered.  
  
The harshness receded from my husband’s face, but if he felt any remorse, he didn’t show it.  
  
“Naj,” I said softly.  
  
He immediately met my gaze.  
  
My son. My boy.  
  
“I’m so proud of you.” My smile was cracked. “So proud.”  
  
“Ma?”   
  
My shame hit me like a punch to the gut, and I couldn't breathe. “Forgive me, Naj.” I felt tears sliding down my face and I bent down, my face in my hands. “Forgive me…”  
  
His eyes turned glassy. “What are you saying, Ma?”  
  
I straightened up. “Don’t call me that.” My voice was clipped. I wiped my face mechanically and looked away. “You need to leave.”  
  
He looked at me with such gentleness; it broke my heart. “I love you.” He pressed a kiss on my cheek and shoved past his Da, who stood paralyzed as he watched me.  
  
I heard Wylan and Jesper take Naj back with them, and was thankful for their understanding. He should not have to see this.  
  
I sank onto the bed, eyes wide open. If I closed them I was afraid of never waking up. My fingers began twisting my wedding band around in circles again. The rough metal rubbed into my skin, stilling me. Soon darkness dragged me down, and I didn’t dream of babies screaming on a dirt road. I dreamed of the sounds of bullets sinking into flesh. I dreamed of watching myself bleed out while my husband walked away with his Wraith and my- _her_ \- son.  
  
I flinched upright, the shot still ringing in my ears.  
  
My wrist had been set. It was set and wrapped tightly in stiff, clean bandages, but I could tell it would never be right again. It was ruined: completely and utterly ruined.  
  
Just like me.  
  
Through the dark I made out Kaz’s dark form sitting in the wooden chair at the foot of my bed, hands folded over his cane. He stared at me with fury so cold it burned. “Your actions cost my son his mother,” he seethed. “You took her from Naj. You took her from _me_.”  
  
“If it wasn’t for me, you would have never seen her again,” I said between my teeth.  
  
He leapt to his feet and hurled his cane across the room. “If it wasn’t for you, I would never have lost her in the first place!” he exploded, undone and unhinged. “If you were anyone- _anyone_ , else- I would have killed you myself!” he snarled.  
  
The air left my lungs.  
  
There. He’d finally said it.  
  
Blank-faced, I wrapped the shawl around my shoulders to shield me from his hate. “I see.”  
  
In another life, in another time, I would have sworn I saw a glimmer of remorse break through the haze of rage that blinded him- but here, now, there was no remorse to be found; it would never be allowed to survive in one such as Dirtyhands.  
  
Especially with me.  
  
“I have no one and nothing, Kaz. Isn’t that enough?”  
  
His silence was enough to tell me that no, it wasn’t enough.  
  
Not nearly enough.  
  
“Ah.” I let my stare bore into him. “You want _revenge._ ”  
  
And there- there was that twitch in the fingers; that flash of insuppressible wrath.  
  
There was Dirtyhands: hiding all along.  
  
“You want revenge?” Calm, I placed my knife in front of him. “Then by all means, take it.”  
  
He jerked to his feet, fury and shame plain of his face.   
  
_So_ , I thought grimly, _Dirtyhands did have a heart._  
  
Jesper said it had gone with Inej.  
  
Apparently, it had come back with her, too.  
  
“I will not ask for forgivingness.” I flexed my fingers, straining against the black. “You made your choice, and I made mine. Neither of us can go back.”  
  
His eyes flicked down, and he seemed to sink into the chair. For the first, time I think I struck the heart of the Bastard of the Barrel. “It was like asking you to chose between Naj and your daughter.” He spoke to the floor as if he couldn’t bring himself to meet my eyes. “There was no way I could have chosen and not lost.”  
  
I felt numb at his confession.  
  
A sliver of my anger fell away, but what left was only devastation.  
  
This- _this was_ what we hadn’t talked about.  
  
Thoroughly defeated, I sank back into the pillows and closed my eyes, too tired to care. “I’ll be gone by tomorrow,” I told him, devoid of emotion. “You’ll never have to see me again.”   
  
“Mei-“   
  
I shot up, snarling. “Never. Call me that. Again.” I twisted the iron ring around my finger, pulling it off with a vicious jerk. Once it felt warm and familiar; now it was a mockery of everything I thought was mine.  
  
It dropped like an anvil out of my hand.  
  
I didn’t look to see where it fell.  
  
“From this day forth, I declare you Unnamed,” I said flatly. “If I see your face, I will not know it. If I find your body, I will let it rot. If I meet you in battle, one of us will die. This I swear by the bones of my brother and the blood in my veins.”  
  
He had the look of someone who had been stabbed.  
  
“Strange.” My eyes traveled down, andI stared at his cane and thought about all those times he used it on me; all those times he wanted me to hurt. “You remind me of him, a bit.”  
  
His head snapped up, helpless rage in his eyes. “I would never have done that. I would never have raped and beaten you just to hear you break.”   
  
“No. But I wish you had.” My heart clenched at his bloodless face. “It’s much easier to hate someone than to love them,” I finished bitterly. “And I did, you know. I loved you.”  
  
“You loved me,” he repeated quietly.  
  
The past tense of the statement wasn’t missed.  
  
I was so tired; it felt as if my very spirit had been wrung of life. “I thought it would be enough,” I whispered, “but it never is.”  
  
He seemed unable to speak.  
  
I let my eyelids fall shut. “Listen to me, Kaz Rietvald: when I was a girl, someone asked me if I believed in soulmates, and I said no. I never have. I didn’t think I ever would. It always seemed so impossible; people change so much. You think you know them, but do you ever? Look at me: I swore to never love another child after my girls, and then I met Naj. I swore to never let myself depend on another person, and then I worked and lived and laughed beside you for ten long years. I swore to never stop fighting, and then I gave up. I gave up, because when I saw you and Inej, reunited after those long years apart, I saw soul mates.” My throat closed up.  
  
The silence was deafening and empty.   
  
I felt a hand slip into mine: thin and strong, with the long, clever fingers of a thief.  
  
For the first time in ten years, my husband held my hand without his armor.  
  
“I would have chosen the bullet if it meant saving you. Every time.”  
  
_Men lie,_ I thought _, even when they think they’re telling the truth._  
  
I started to pull my hand away but he wouldn’t let go. There was no fighting him- not without sacrificing what little dignity I had left. “Then tell me you don’t blame me,” I whispered.   
  
No answer.  
  
Only silence.  
  
He couldn’t even bring himself to respond.  
  
So I pressed my lips together and closed my eyes to block out the cold world around me, and he held my hand as if he could to keep me from slipping away into the emptiness.  
  
What he didn’t know was I _was_ the emptiness, and the emptiness was me.   
  
I fell asleep with his hand gripping mine like a vice…


	45. Leaving

I emptied my accounts, gathered up what little I had, and left within a day.

I have not spoken with him since. 

I know he looks for me, but he has been Cursed never to find me unless I want to be found. 

And I don’t. 

For the next year, I’m the woman who rarely speaks and never smiles. 

And when I’m not the Blood Dragon, I remove my mask, and you see that I’m just Meiyu Han: the sick, emaciated woman who goes to the market every other Friday for groceries, because even monsters need to eat. I move back to the West Side, and now I’m the woman who resides in a small, tidy apartment in a neighborhood populated with people who know hardship and respect when someone needs forget and disappear. 

Life is an endless sea. 

I drift through its waters like a ship without sails.


	46. Alida

The first spot of brightness in months comes in the form of a tiny wisp of a girl- Shu: barely a year old- left by some poor soul. I stumbled across her as she sat crying with hunger and fear, tucked away in a dark, filthy corner of the West Side. No note. No food. No mother.   
  
But a few had begun to eye her with sinister interest. The girls at the brothels were getting younger every year, and the orphanages were little more than dying rooms.  
  
I brought her inside immediately.  
  
She had bright, shining eyes and the sweetest smile.  
  
She made some part of me stir, but it couldn’t wake.   
  
Of course, I was in no condition to care for such a fragile little creature, so I brought her to the kindest people I knew.  
  
“Hello, Wylan.” I nodded. “Jesper.”  
  
“Meiyu.”  
  
Both were shocked, to say the least.  
  
“Can I talk to you?”   
  
They let me in, and I spoke to them for the first time in…months. I asked them to take this girl, and find a good home for her (preferably with them, but I didn’t say this); I told them what little I knew of her story, and then I asked if they would help.  
  
Wylan didn’t hesitate before declaring she could stay with them.  
  
Jesper was already besotted.  
  
She had grown fussy during our conversation, so I carefully lowered her into Jesper’s arms and watched with interest as she calmed.   
  
His hold was awkward.  
  
His inexperience made him unnaturally stiff.  
  
“It’s a baby, Jesper, not a bomb,” Wylan joked.  
  
Jesper glowered. “Shut up.”  
  
She began to whimper.  
  
“Shhh, shh, it’s okay,” he offered weakly.  
  
Her face crumpled inwards, and the whimper became a full-blown cry.  
  
Jesper bounced her up and down and winced as she started to wail. “Naj didn’t do this when he was this age,” he muttered, tickling her.   
  
Wylan pulled a silly face, and the cries trailed off.  
  
The girl’s head tilted.  
  
She looked between the two men with wide, curious eyes.  
  
A little starfish of a hand wrapped around one dancing finger.  
  
Her mouth crept up into a tiny smile.  
  
Jesper wasn’t grumbling anymore. He stared at her, and she at him, and I saw that …click…that moment where a missing piece of yourself snaps into place, and the thing you never knew you needed is right there, in front of you.  
  
Love at first sight isn’t always what you expect.  
  
I showed them how to hold her (properly) and while they were bickering over how to feed her, I slipped away and was out the door long before they ever realize I was gone.  
…  
  
_They named her Alida._  
  
 _It meant, “winged”, in old Kerch, because, as Wylan would tell her again and again as she sat on his lap, “You just flew into our lives like an angel.”_  
  
 _They told me later that her middle name was Shu._  
  
 _Meiyu, to be exact._  
  
 _I cried._  
  



	47. Our Light and Our Life

Love made me weak, but when it comes to my children, I have no choice.  
  
So when Naj comes to visit, I hug him tight and tell him how happy I am to see him. He brings me a new book whenever he can, and it makes me smile. Most days we sit and read together by a window that faces the sun, and if I’m feeling especially alive, I make dumplings with him and tell him stories: happy, silly things from my childhood that make him smile- laugh, even.  
  
And all the while we are careful to avoid talking about _him,_ or _her_ , or anything that reminds me of why I’m here; why I went away.  
  
My son is healing, too, but he isn’t the same. I can see it clear as day. Still, he has a kind soul, and he is always gentle with me.  
  
Always.  
  
Yet I know, underneath his kindness, he has not forgiven me for leaving him.  
  
I’ve become such a burden to him. Such a terrible burden. It’s not his job to take care of _me_! I tell him so, but he’s as stubborn as his father, and he won’t leave me. He’d be much better without me, though.  
  
Yes.  
  
Much better.  
  
Yes.  
…  
  
You know, something very troubling just occurred to me.  
  
I’m dying- and I _want_ Naj to be happy- so it _should_ make me happy that when I am dead, my son will be able to live a good life without me.  
  
But it doesn’t.  
  
It makes me so sad, some days I can barely bring myself to breathe.  
…  
  
I take my medicine so often I don’t even register the dry feel of them sliding down my throat.  
  
Naj keeps asking- begging- me to stop, but really, what’s the point? I’ll be dead anyway.  
  
At least, that’s what I told him (in a gentler manner).  
  
What I don't tell him is: I’m drowning.  
  
I’m drowning, but no one wants to hear about it.  
  
So what choice do I have but to swim on, and forget?  
  
I’ve been swimming for years; I’ll be fine.  
  
But next week? Next month? I’ll be drowning all over again.  
  
_I don’t know what’s wrong with me._  
  
…  
  
_It hurts._  
  
_It hurts so much._  
  
_Love makes me weak, and I want to forget._  
  
_I’m a Cursemaker, aren’t I?_  
  
_I can let go._  
  
_I can forget._  
  
_Remembering only hurts, anyway._


	48. Forgetting

The scales rain down from all sides.  
  
Black and gold: spattered with red.  
  
They fall like leaves in the autumn, and it hurts.  
  
It hurts so much.  
  
But then 

The hurt

Just

Stops.

....

This is…nice.

I don’t know what happened, exactly.

My scales litter the floor, and though patches of my skin are raw and bloody, it’s…

_Nice_.

The world is firm under my feet, and I feel

Calm.

Calm and

Cold.

All the memories that used to hurt are

White.

White as an eggshell in snow.


	49. First Meeting: Year 12 (Kaz)

We stood face-to-face, expressionless.  
  
She was dressed in black. Eyes glowing gold. Lightweight bulletproof armor wrapped around her. I could see her skull through her veil. A custom steel gauntlet wrapped around her bad wrist- Grisha made- to keep it straight; keep it protected.  
  
Her mask was polished silver and just as lifeless.  
  
The Blood Dragon once more.  
  
“I said one of us would die if you dared show your face.”  
  
“So why haven’t you killed me?”  
  
“I’m a busy woman.”  
  
If we were still married I would have smiled at her bland tone. “You’re lying.” I had known her for a long time; she was weak, yes, sick, yes, but like her knife, her Curses never, ever, missed their mark. For some reason, she’d made sure I wouldn’t be killed.  
  
But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t break each of my bones if I pushed her too far.   
  
I tapped the head of my cane. “Naj asked you to spare me, didn’t he?”  
  
Her eyes were devoid of all warmth. “He knows how to use a person’s weakness against them.”   
  
“He’s your son-.”  
  
“He’s not my son,” she said sharply, “and I’m not his mother.” Her voice smoothed out into a cold, eerie lilt. “So.” She crossed her arms. “What business?”  
  
I leaned on my cane. “You killed one of my Crows.”  
  
“Which one,” she smirked. “There’s been so many.”  
  
“Mulder.”  
  
“Ah. Well, I’m sure you’ll find another,” she responded flippantly.  
  
“He was the best.”  
  
_That_ made her laugh, short and biting. “I doubt that. If he were ‘the best’, he wouldn’t have died. And from what I’ve heard, he wasn’t even that good at finding the parem. Shame.”  
  
I hated that she was right. “You’re working that job for de Vries?”  
  
“Of course! I’m quite rich thanks to him.”  
  
“As if you need any more money.”  
  
“You and I both know: there is no such thing as too little money.” She smiled with venom. “I’ve found him to be one of the best employers I’ve had: he hates you, which means he loves me. We understand each other _very_ well.”   
  
I forced myself not to grind my teeth. I _despised_ that Merch son of a bitch: he was far smarter than the usual merchling rabble, and I knew from the way his gaze slid down her slender body he was wanted her for more than business purposes. The way he spoke of her- it was nauseating- but she didn’t seem to mind. “He’s using you, Meiyu.”  
  
She looked at me as if I was a child. “Of course he is. We use each other.”  
  
I didn’t want to think about what that meant.  
  
“Is there a problem?”  
  
I ignored her. She was goading me- that much was plain. I needed to keep myself focused on what I came here for. “You don’t kill one of my Crows without consequences.”  
  
“ _Consequences_?” she repeated. Her laugh rasped against my ears like broken glass. “Do you honestly think I care?”  
  
“If you don’t care, you should.”  
  
She walked up to me until we stood toe-to-toe. “Why?”  
  
“Because not caring gets you killed. Or worse.” My voice was flat and dangerous. I hated that we had become this to each other.  
  
“Oh, Brekker,” she sighed mockingly. “What are could you possibly do to me?”  
  
“You spent four days turning my best smuggler into a hunk of meat.”  
  
Her eyes turned from gold to black. “He deserved it,” she snarled, almost crazed.   
  
There. That was something real. “The same way the assassin deserved it?”  
  
The anger in her eyes deepened, but her expression changed to something far more ominous. It built and built until it just…died. “Perhaps I should have let Mulder live. Then you could ask him how he liked taking me. How he couldn’t finish unless I screamed.”  
  
I felt the blood freeze in my veins. For a moment I forgot that we were enemies and remembered we were once married.  
  
“I don’t remember what you were to me,” she continued, matter-of-fact. “You poisoned my memories, and I have finally cured myself of my weakness.”  
  
“Cured,” I repeated.  
  
“Yes.” She smiled like winter. “Do you know how easy it was? Forgetting you?”  
  
Whatever this was- it was like falling backward off a cliff.  
  
Her smile dropped off her face and shattered on the stones below us. “So. You came here to give me a warning, Brekker. What was it?” she asked innocently. A trickle of black dripped down her face from her eyes, pooling at her feet. There was a dangerous gleam in them. _I dare you_ , it said. _I dare you to push me until I snap._  
  
Golden ribbons twisted down, coiling through her fingers like snakes.  
  
I knew when I was outgunned.  
  
I stepped back.  
  
She sighed. “You’re reputation as Bastard of the Barrel seems to have diminished.” Her dismissive tone cut like blades. “I’m rather disappointed,” she whispered scornfully.  
  
She turned on her heels and stalked away.  
  
If she were anyone else I would have roughed her up a bit for that: broken bones, black eye, that sort of thing. But I couldn’t do it.  
  
I couldn’t.  
  
All I could hear was, “Do you know easy it was?”  
  
I hadn’t.  
  
But I did now.  
  
…  
  
I didn’t see her- not until Naj returned, pale-faced and demanding what I had done to her- and when he brought me to her, I didn’t know what to say.  
  
Meiyu lay coiled on the floor of her room, fast asleep, but her dragon-form was skeletal, and patches of her scales had born torn out at the root. The Cursemaker Healer told that she had _Purged_ , and when Naj asked what that meant, all she had said was: “We remember so much, child. Too much. Sometimes forgetting is the only thing we can do.”  
  
At first, it seemed to help her in some small way. Her nightmares dwindled. Flashbacks didn’t cripple her like they used to. Once in a while, she even thought she was back in Shu Han- back with her family, with her brother and grandparents- and in those moments, she was happier than I’d seen her in years; happier than I could have ever imagined.  
  
But then there were times when she screamed and couldn’t remember why, and in those moments, we knew she had dug too deep- torn too harshly- and left gaping, bleeding holes in her memory. Whoever looked out at us from inside Meiyu was a shadow of the dragon she once was- and yet- she seemed… calm. Content, even: as if she wandered through a ruined landscape without ever knowing it was ruined.  
  
She had peace, now, but we didn’t realize the cost of that peace until she had spoken to Naj one day. “You are so kind,” she remarked. “People are usually not so kind to strangers  
  
When he looked at her, confused, she smiled, and asked, “ _Ni ming’ma_? What’s your name, so I might thank you?”  
  
It was a long time before he found a way to answer her.  
  
He left her happy, and by that point, he had no choice but to come to me.  
  
Without the weight of her memories, her mind circled high above us, soaring like a hawk. So I made absolutely sure, under no circumstances, to let her see me.   
  
None of us wanted to send her spiraling down with broken wings.  



	50. Trapped

A strange man stood by a window.  
  
He cut a dark and solitary figure against the pale light- and in his hand, he held cane: topped with the silver skull of a dragon; its muzzle sharpened to a vicious point. His dark eyes were drawn to a plant- my pepper plant of all things- and he gazed at it the same way a person might gaze at a portrait of someone they’d once loved; someone who was no more. There was something about him, though- something about his lost expression that woke a deep-rooted emotion in me- and when he reached out towards my plant, I gasped before I could stifle it.   
  
His hand jerked back, and all it took was one glimpse at my face to make his drain of color- as if _he_ were the one trapped by _my_ presence, not the other way around!  
  
I snatched my pepper back from his grasping hands without thinking and was momentarily bewildered by my own stupidity. I had no magic. No strength.  
  
He could take me so easily.  
  
The sturdy pot fell to the floor with a heavy _thunk_ , scattering dirt as it rolled away.  
  
And then I was up- up and ready to fight- but my head spun so horribly, and I couldn’t seem to breathe. Who was he? Why peppers? _Why why why_? Questions tumbled round and round in my head like rocks. They hurt. Everything _hurt_ \- the questions, _hurt_ \- and I knew I had locked them away- locked them so deep- so they would never come back.  
  
I clutched my splitting skull and moaned.  
  
A gloved hand reached out to me. “Meiyu, stop-“  
  
Snarling like a beast, I did my best to strike him- hurt him- but some old instinct made him lurch smartly back, the paleness of his Kerch skin verging on waxen. My talons flew by harmlessly, and I wanted to howl in frustration.  
  
His amber eyes bored into mine, almost pleadingly. “Meiyu. You _know_ me-“  
  
“No, I don’t,” I snapped. Truly, I had no idea who he was- how he had gotten here- but this man- I hated him. I feared him, yes- but I hated him more, because hearing my name on his tongue felt like a violation.  
  
“You’re Purged, Meiyu-“  
  
“You think I don’t know that?” The names glowed bright on my arm, but somehow, I didn’t have to look to know he wasn’t there. “You think I’m stupid?”  
  
“Of course not-“  
  
He made to move forward, and I snarled, liquid fire hissing between my teeth. “Get away from me. You get away from me-“  
  
“ _Meiyu.”_  
  
I stilled at his steady, even tone.   
  
“My name is Kaz, Meiyu. Kaz Brekker.” The familiarity in the way he said my name made me shudder in revulsion. “I’m here because I promised I’d come back for you-“  
  
“ _You liar!”_ I exploded. My throat ached with every word. “No one is _EVER_ coming back for me!”  
  
And then I found myself brandishing my forearm between us like a shield- my only shield- against this terrible man.  
  
“Look!” I screamed. “You’re not there! _You’re not there_!” Those bleeding words poured from a rotting place I could not- would not- find anymore. “I forgot you like you forgot me!”  
  
Now, his face hardened against me. “I didn’t forget you. _You_ forgot _me_.”  
  
I drew myself up to my full height and fixed him with the coldest of stares. Men like him- they deserved to suffer; they deserved to be cast aside- made to feel as tiny and worthless as I always had- because they had everything, and I had nothing.  
  
So I told him a cruel, false thing.  
  
I told him, “I’d rather die than remember someone like you.”   
  
The hardness fell away from him, and oh, how that empty, gutted expression of his made some mean part of me crow in vicious triumph! And yet- _and yet! -_ A tiny part of me (the weakest, _stupidest_ part) desperately wanted to take my words back.  
  
I crushed that part in my hand like a fly.  
  
“Go.”   
  
Without one word, he turned and limped out of the door, closing it behind him with a muffled click. To my intense disappointment, I watched him go through a veil of tears.  
  
_He deserves to suffer!_ I thought as I violently dashed the water from my eyes, _And I hate him with all my miserable, murderous heart!_  
  
But even as I thought this, I found I hated myself most of all.  
  
And then I laughed, and marveled at what I had become.  
…


	51. Interlude: The Thunder

“Every storm begins with thunder.” 

That’s what my people say when they see clouds on the horizon; when they feel bad things are about to happen. 

In the same way, I will tell you how this storm began. 

…  
  
_Once upon a time, in a city called Ketterdam, a Shu girl was raped by a Kerch man and left for dead on the street. Her body was found lying in the dirt the next day by a neighbor and she was brought to her mother and father wrapped in a white sheet._  
  
_She was thirteen._  
  
_Her two older brothers tracked down this man, this murderer, and shot him clean through the heart: an honor killing. A blood feud, born of grief and hate._  
  
_And so they, too, became murderers._  
  
_It was night when she had been attacked, but Saints, that summer was the hottest, driest summer people had felt in years. Everything had shriveled and cracked in the sun, and the air was so parched it sucked and guzzled and scrabbled for water with a greediness that comes from dying of thirst; water, tears, blood- all drank down to the dregs; all gone and disappeared as if they never were._  
  
_The man who was shot was a member of one of Ketterdam’s many gangs, whose comrades despised the Shu who seemed a swarm Ketterdam’s dark streets._  
  
_And the girl? The girl was the daughter of a humble bookseller, whose father had dared to sell his wares to the Blood Dragon and her half-breed son._  
  
_…_  
  
This was the thunder.  
  
Now came the storm.  



	52. The Storm (Kaz)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was in honor of the victims of the mass shootings that have occurred in our country these past few years. I hope we never get used to hearing about such tragedies.

I pulled on my gloves and grabbed my cane. “Naj, is she still living in the West Side?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Where.”  
  
Naj dragged a hand through his hair.  
  
“I won’t ask you again,” I said quietly.  
  
He looked up and saw my expression. Sank back down. “She’d down at the corner where she used to dance,” he said finally. Halting, like he was betraying her. “Her apartment is on the first street on the left. Third one down. It’s unmarked, but you can see a plant through the window.”  
  
“What kind?”  
  
He almost smiled. “Peppers.”   
  
I saw them in my mind: glossy leaves and shriveled fruits the color of fresh blood. I had passed that apartment once or twice without ever noticing it. Always in the corner of my eye, the farthest part of my mind. The Curse had done its job very well.  
  
“She won’t leave, Da. She doesn’t want to; not now.” He watched and as I loaded my pistol and tucked it in my coat. “You won’t be able to find her.”  
  
Inej materialized at the doorway. “What is it, Kaz?” Her voice was soft.  
  
“The Chen family was found dead today.”  
  
“That’s what I heard.” She bowed her head. “All of them? Even their little boy?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“When will it ever end?” she murmured.  
  
“It won’t,” I snapped. “They’re going to kill everyone they can today.”  
  
Her hand slid over mine, and I stopped. “Let me come with you.”  
  
I let myself lean into her touch for the briefest second. “Bring your knives,” was all I said.  
  
She nodded once and left.  
  
“What about me?”  
  
I didn’t look at him.  
  
Naj leapt to his feet. “What about me?” he demanded. “I’m seventeen. You can’t just tell me to stay here- that’s bullshit-“  
  
I turned to him. “You will stay here, because I am your father, and I don’t want to see _my son_ added to the list of the dead.” I cut him off before he could interrupt me. “This is one bullet away from becoming a slaughter. If you’re killed-”  
  
“I’m not a child,” he growled.  
  
I grabbed his arm and gave him a hard shake. “Then stop acting like one.”  
  
He didn’t shout, but his words were loud in my head and full of resentment. “Why do you let _Inej_ go, but not me?”   
  
“Inej is your mother, too.”  
  
He held back his furious retort, but barely. Meiyu had checked that fire enough that the inferno became a low flame. He had finally learned control, but it was a dangerous kind. “I’m going to go,” he said calmly. “I know you think I’m just a stupid kid who’s going to get his brains blown out, but I’m not stupid, and I haven’t been a child for a long time.”   
  
Naj stood there, his features blocked by the harsh sun, and I knew nothing I said or did was going to change his mind. He was almost the same age as me when I pulled off that first heist. The same age as Inej was when she fought Dunyasha to the death. The same age as Meiyu when she gave birth to twin daughters alone with only war and starvation for company.  
  
Of course he wasn’t a child anymore. Children didn’t survive in the Barrel.  
  
“If you die, it will kill her,” I told him.   
  
“Well, I don’t plan on dying,” he said shortly.  
  
I walked over to him and rested a hand on his shoulder.  
  
We were the same height now.  
  
“No mourners.”  
  
He looked me in the eye. “No funerals.”  
  
All three of us left the house.  
  
The heat was savage and unforgiving as ever. Mirages rose up at the end of every street in shifting ponds and wavering puddles. Ketterdam wasn’t known for its pleasant smell, but the oppressive heat cooked the filth and the sweat until it wafted strong and heady, making my eyes water.  
  
It got worse the closer we came to the West Side.  
  
I stayed back towards the shadows so I wouldn’t be seen. The Kerch outnumbered the Shu five to one, but here, I was the odd man out- the enemy.  
  
The Chens were dead, but this was the West Side of Ketterdam; however awful it was, life went on. People wandered up and down the stalls of the market, bartering, chatting, trading money for food. The hum of the crowd was like cicadas in the countryside: loud, incessant, individual sounds quickly lost in the background. They were packed in elbow to elbow.  
  
Here were the lambs.  
  
Now where were the wolves?  
  
Naj cut through the crowd and was swallowed by the masses.  
  
A few faces turned towards him in recognition. One or two even smiled and raised their hand in welcome. The fact he spoke mother-taught Shu fluently and was spoken for by Meiyu made him a guest instead of an outsider.  
  
A friendly-but-worn looking man leaned out behind his counter. _“Hey look, it’s the kid!”_ he yelled jovially. He bent his head back. _“Hey, it’s Meiyu’s kid.”_  
  
Naj tried to backtrack, but a woman poked her head out and zeroed in on him like a hawk with a mouse. “ _Lili! Ni pengyou zhe’r_!” She hollered.  
  
_“Mrs. Liu, I’m sorry but-“_  
  
“ _Naji_!” A tiny girl ran up to Naj, grinning shyly as she bounced on her toes. When he didn’t move towards her, her grin turned into a baleful frown. “ _Naji?”_  
  
“ _I’m sorry_ _Lili, I really have to go…_ ” Naj tried to sidestep her, but her arms shot up in a sharp V.  
  
She squinted at him. “ _Up,”_ she requested.  
  
Expectant, her arms waved in the air  
  
Naj sighed when he realized there was no way getting around her. “ _Ai_ …” Quickly, he bent down and scooped her into his arms, ruffling her hair. _“Zaoshang’hao, Lili. Nihao’ma?”_  
  
Head ducked bashfully, she shrugged. But then her eyes lit with mischief, and she beeped his nose, wriggling out of his arms to run away, squealing in delight.  
  
_“Lili!”_ Her mother caught hold of her and held her fast _. “Lili! That was very rude!”_ Apologetic, she glanced up at Naj. _“Dui’buqi, Nadir, she’s…Lili! Stop that!”_  
  
He chuckled as she pulled a face at him and hid behind her mother.  
  
Inej’s looked on, her face wistful.  
  
Naj didn’t laugh anymore.  
  
Hands on hips, the bedraggled woman craned her neck down at her daughter and wiped the sweat from her brow. _“Aiyo…What must he think of you, child? And us?”_  
  
_“It’s alright, really. I have a cousin about her age.”_ He waved at the little girl, who darted away and was lost behind her father’s counter.   
  
A little hand waved above the food stand. “ _Zaijian Naji!_ ”  
  
Naj smiled, but his eyes were elsewhere, scanning the sea of heads, searching for Meiyu’s white veil. Usually, it made her stand out like a fleck of snow in a pile of dirt, but here…here, I saw more heads covered than not. Grief and loss was draped over these women in a hundred veils of white.  
  
Inej’s head tilted up. “Is that her?”  
  
I followed her gaze.  
  
A tall, bone-thin woman stood towards the far end of the lane, arguing with a man at a stand full of vegetables who looked at the edge of his wits.  
  
Hands waved; fingers jabbed at the vegetables, barking.  
  
He shook his head.  
  
She stalked away.  
  
He watched her go with a tight, pained expression, finally shouting his defeat.  
  
She turned. Her eyes glittered with triumph, and I saw her, clear as day.  
  
“That’s her,” I grumbled.  
  
We watched as she gathered up the vegetables with an air of victory.  
  
Almost out of thin air, Naj appeared next to her and began following her.  
  
I rubbed my face. “And he said he wasn’t a child anymore.”  
  
Inej glanced over at me.  
  
“Just watch,” I grumbled.  
  
Creeping close, he tapped her on the shoulder and barely dodged the slice of her talons.  
  
Despite his best efforts, her hand still managed to deliver a stinging slap him upside the head- and now she stood before him: a Dragon Mother berating her smirking, nearly-grown son as if he were a naughty boy and nothing had changed.  
  
Hands in pockets, Naj only shrugged, his smile full of easy cunning.  
  
Once she ran out of air and irritation, her lips strained into a reluctant, affectionate curve, and she smiled. But then her eyes slid past him- past the crowd- and saw us.  
  
The smile turned to ash.  
  
Then her face went still.  
  
Her head lifted up and she turned. Her eyes narrowed to slits; scanning for something she could just barely see. The people shifted and talked, placid, but Meiyu was rigid in her wariness.  
  
Naj spoke in low tones and she held up a hand, sharp.  
  
A ripple went through the crowd.  
  
The people seemed to pulse, shift, look to each other with apprehension.   
  
A shrill scream pierced the hum of the marketplace until a telltale shot was heard.  
  
The cry went silent.  
  
“ _Run_.” Meiyu whirled around and shoved Naj away, her face white. “ _Run!”_ she howled _._  
  
Inej and I burst from the shadows and sprinted to our son and the woman who had given her heart and soul to raise him.  
  
_One- two- three._  
  
Three shots cracked through the air.  
  
Three people toppled without a sound.  
  
Someone screamed.  
  
And then the entire market place, filled to bursting with men, women, and children, pulsed, roiled, and turned into a stampede- a flood- that poured down the street in a thundering wave of fear and sweat and blood: poured down and swept us downstream in a churning river of arms and legs and bodies.  
  
The white of Meiyu’s veil flashed against the sun as a panicked, wild-eyed man grabbed her by the shoulders and thrust her out of his way.  
  
Naj yanked her upright only to stumble and fall himself.  
  
Inej slipped through an opening and leapt towards them only to vanish as well.  
  
The howling mob swallowed them whole.  
  
People scattered. Sprinted. Pushed their way to the front- away from the shots- away from the guns- and into the real line of fire. They grabbed hold of their loved ones, their friends, even strangers- and ran with the speed raw, animal terror blesses us with.  
  
They flung themselves forward with everything they had.  
  
They tripped and fell and staggered up again only to be gunned down or trampled underfoot. No humans anymore: only a herd of panicking cattle fleeing from a pack of wolves.  
  
Out of the shadows emerged figures: waiting all along. They held long iron rods. Wooden clubs. Broken bottles. Leather belts. Anything. Everything. The shots were just to get the people running- fleeing- in their direction.  
  
They stepped out, a dark, unwavering line, and ran _with_ the crowds. _Through_ the crowds. They swept through the sea of bodies, dealing out blow after blow, smashing anything they saw with vicious downward hits: random, brutal, and meant to inflict as much hurt and possible.  
  
People fell like wheat before a scythe.  
  
The men’s faces were white: filled with hate and terrible satisfaction.  
  
It was an ugly thing to see.  
  
A white veil turned against the current. Two hands lifted against the yellow sky.  
  
“Meiyu!”  
  
I felt myself go cold as I saw a figure- a man with murder bright in his eyes- hurtling towards her: his hand was wrapped around a wooden baton.  
  
My gun rose as all the noise, all the chaos, became muffled. Every instinct told me to shoot- _now_ \- or watch her be struck down like so many others, but there was no way for me to shoot him in this crowd without risking killing her- or someone else.  
  
I watched as his arm swing up.   
  
I watched the club swing down.  
  
I watched as the dark line arched and swung and _cracked,_ over and over.  
  
Meiyu hit the ground with a noiseless thud, and the man ran on, bloody glee bright in his eyes.  
  
Not once did he slow- or look back.  
  
_Not once._  
  
I caught a glimpse of her body: kicked and crushed into the filth of the street like garbage, unmoving. Her snowy white veil was spattered violent red.  
  
The red grew with each passing second.  
  
Wordlessly, I fought my way through the crowd, but they took one look at me, at my face, and bolted even more frantically, pushing, shoving, beating me back, away from her broken form.  
  
A pulse rolled through the street, shining gold.  
  
People staggered as the ground shook underneath them.  
  
I knew before I saw her that she stood, and she was alive.  
  
Meiyu rose upright, blood trickling down her face: eyes black as pitch, hands wreathed in light. A golden breeze swirled around her, gathering speed, spinning faster and faster to become a wind that whipped her veil and skirts round and round with the force of a gale storm on the high seas. The light that spilled off of it pulsed with a heartbeat that could be felt for miles.  
  
It rose above the crowd, and people’s faces turned to it in awe and fear.  
  
The pulsing grew until it made dust on the street rise with each throb.  
  
The market held its breath.  
  
The hands clenched, and magic curled inwards and dove.  
  
It ripped through the crowds with the speed of a bullet, veering around the innocent, tearing through the attackers like a knife through butter in complete, eerie silence.  
  
The magic lit them from the inside, and all of us watched as, in a blink of an eye and a soundless bolt of lightning, almost a hundred men were vaporized where they stood.  
  
It happened so fast they didn’t even have time to scream.  
  
The magic jerked back into those hands with a muted snap.  
  
And all was silent.  
  
The market was rendered speechless.  
  
Meiyu calmly wiped blood off her face. “ _Wei renmin,”_ she whispered.  
  
She raised her hands again, and we watched as the golden mist rise up like a gauzy sheet and drift down. The people braced themselves only to relax as it brushed against them in a soft breeze. It grazed over the injured and _healed_ them- all of them- but only enough so they could survive the wait for help.  
  
Gently, it touched the dead and passed them by.  
  
I saw Inej standing a few feet away, rooted to the spot like the rest of us.  
  
We watched as the magic clung to itself and forms threads, which formed streams, which then trickled back into her like a river flowing to the sea. She wrapped the thick strands around herself and let it sink into her and fade.  
  
Blood soaked through her veil. Dripped like tears.  
  
When her face turned, and she looked at me, it chilled me to my bones. They were a yawning, gaping void of blaack power: deep and ancient as an ocean; it thrummed and churned just underneath the surface of her skin, trapped in a fragile human vessel.  
  
She turned and spoke with the authority of a queen. “ _I have done all I can_ ,” she said in Shu. Straight-backed, she strode through the people, her voice ringing down the street. “ _Now, it is you who must act.”_  
  
Silence. Then…  
  
“ _I say we kill those Kerch scum_!” someone finally yelled. _“It’s the least they deserve.”_  
  
Voices rose in agreement.  
  
_“The Kerch deserve to die!”_  
  
_“Let them have a taste of their own medicine!”_  
  
One, then another, until the voices rose in a vengeful shout.  
  
A single hand rose. “ _Enough!”_ Meiyu cried.  
  
The shouts turned into a grumble.  
  
Meiyu glared at the people who had called for blood. Where she advanced closer, the crowd fell back. _“Think on what you say.”_ Her voice was cold and clear as ice. “ _Is this what we become_?”  
  
The angry faces became hesitant.  
  
Naj walked to her side and stood there, immobile.  
  
“ _This is my son_ ,” she announced. “ _The only child I have been given_. _But, he is Kerch, so according to you, he deserves to die.”_ Her eyes blazed with wrath. “ _Right?”_  
  
A few seemed to wince as their words were thrown in their face.  
  
“ _He’s Dirtyhand’s boy_ ,” a voice said in the distance. _“Let him die first.”_  
  
My hand went to my gun as Inej’s went to her knives, both of us tensing; preparing for the worst.  
  
Naj went still, but Meiyu rested a hand on his shoulder and stepped forward. “ _Who said this?”_ She said. Her voice was deadly calm.  
  
The crowd parted to reveal a man, startled to see him be addressed so directly, defiant and starved for retribution in a way that made him fearless- and dangerous.  
  
Meiyu walked towards him until they stood inches from each other.   
  
He swallowed at her accusing eyes but didn’t back down.  
  
“ _He is my last.”_ Meiyu spoke to him softly now, and the man flinched away from her voice. “ _Would you take my last from me?”_ She asked simply. _“From a woman who has nothing else?”_  
  
Everyone stood rooted to the ground.  
  
The last angry faces fell, deeply ashamed.  
  
He blinked hard.  
  
_“Well?”_  
  
“ _It should have been me,_ ” he croaked brokenly. He dropped his face in his hands and shook. Tears trickled his face.  
  
Meiyu touched his shoulder gently.  
  
_“Forgive me,”_ the man whispered- to both of them. “ _Forgive me_.” Wobbling, he turned on his heels and retreated until he was lost in the masses.   
  
The street was quiet once more.  
  
No one dared to breathe.  
  
_“The time has come to fight.”_ She turned back to address the silent crowd; half the city had converged to here to witness this speech. _“But if we fight, let us do it with strength and honor- for blood will win nothing but blood.”_ She paced up and down. _“We have come too far- suffered too much- to lay down and die. So rise up! Rise up, I say, and fight for the lives of our people!”_  
  
Heads nodded.  
  
Hands rose in the air.  
  
_“But remember this day,”_ she finished somberly. _“Do not dishonor the dead by forgetting.”_  
  
The people gazed at her with respect and gratitude and admiration.  
  
She turned about. _“Peace be with you all,”_ she finished quietly.  
  
_“Peace be upon you,”_ a voice called.  
  
“ _Peace be upon you_ ,” the crowd murmured.  
  
Meiyu inclined her head as only a true ruler could as made her way to me. I saw her hands tremble violently before she buried resolutely them in her skirts.  
  
All eyes followed her.  
  
She stopped in front of me, pale as death. “I need a Medik,” she said steadily. Her face shone with sweat. “My magic is leaving me. I may die from the shock.”  
  
I led her away as fast as I could. We rounded the corner just as Meiyu began stumbling, her feet dragging. She opened her mouth to speak, but all that came out was garbled, panicked babbling. Her pupils were dilated to the point that I couldn’t see the gold anymore as she tried and failed to speak. She pushed herself away to vomit on the street.  
  
I pulled her up and half walked, half carried her into an abandoned shop, and she half sat, half fell down into a chair, breathing heavily.  
  
Naj and Inej hurried to meet us, and I met Naj’s gaze. “Get a Medik,” I growled. “Now.”   
  
He turned to the crowd and began shouting in Shu, asking for help.  
  
Meiyu turned liquid, and Inej and I kept her from toppling.  
  
We lowered her to the ground just as a small woman rounded the corner and knelt by her.  
  
Meiyu stared past us. Her head listed to the side  
  
The healer’s hands hovered above Meiyu and stopped her heart.  
  
Her eyes slid shut and she didn’t move.  
  
The healer sent a jolt of energy shooting through her body: willing her heart to start again.  
  
When the hands lifted, the heart pulsed once.   
  
And failed.  
  
The woman’s brow furrowed.  
  
Naj looked up sharply. “What’s happening?”  
  
She didn’t answer.  
  
Her hands rose again, and the heart stopped.  
  
They clenched, and it went to work again, pushing blood back through her veins in one pump- _pretending_ to function for a brief second- before shutting down again.  
  
The healer sent another pulse through her, and this time, the heart stuttered- woke- and began pumping. But it was weak.  
  
Toying with us. Feigning life.  
  
The woman leaned forward and examined the blood caked on her head before sitting back. “The heart beats, but it is very weak. It’s the wound on her head that is most concerning: her skull is cracked, and her brain swells.”  
  
My stomach plummeted.   
  
Naj blinked. “What does that mean?” he asked shakily. “Her brain swelling?”  
  
The woman spoke as she worked. “Such swelling could result in a minor hurt. Or, it could cause her to lose her ability to speak, or walk, or think.”  
  
Inej bowed her head in prayer.  
  
“We will not know until she wakes.”  
  
…  
  
It took fifteen days, three hours, and sixteen minutes for her to wake up.  
  
While she slept, I took it upon myself to inform her employer that she would not be working for him anymore.  
  
He didn’t like it.  
  
He ranted and raved about how he as good as _owned_ her. How the Cursemaker whore was his to deal with how he saw fit. How I had no place ordering him around and taking his best mercenary away. How I was just a pathetic shadow of what Dirtyhands once was. On and on it went, and I found my patience running dangerously thin.  
  
Once again, I made it crystal clear that under no circumstances would she be returning to him. I also informed him her paycheck was due.  
  
He didn’t like that either.  
  
When he told me he was not going to leave her in peace, that he would come for her and collect his dues, I didn’t even bother to listening. He was dead the moment he said he owned her. Really, I was already sharpening my knife when he opened his fat gob and proceeded to tell me exactly how and where he’d collect his payment from her; from my wife, the House whore.  
  
I _was_ going to cut his throat, nice and clean, but that seemed too good for him after he told me the filthy things he’d do to her.  
  
He had the look, I decided, of an overblown whale.   
  
So I gutted him like a fish.  
  
His horrified crew had no choice but to gape in silence as I tossed his organs over one side of the ship and his body over the other. It did them well to remember who I still was; what I would do if they threatened me- or my family.  
  
I returned home in a much better mood.  
  
My Crows wisely kept their mouths shut when I strode past them, flecked with a suspicious amount of blood and gore, and sat in my chair next to Meiyu to update her on the daily business in the Barrel, same as always.  
  
I told her that her employer would no longer be able to be reached.  
  
I also added that a rather generous paycheck would be coming in for her right on time.  
  
She lay there, unmoving, and I wondered how long she would sleep before the sleep became a living version of death. I wondered what would happen if she never woke up. Four weeks, her will had said. Four weeks, and if she didn’t wake before then, she probably never would.  
  
It came down to me to let her go.  
  
That thought made all my other thoughts grind to a screeching halt.  
  
For five years, I had stood by and watched as the life was leached out of her. For five years, I was constantly aware of the fact that she wasn’t going to get better. The past few years had been a slow, drawn-out period of sickness and headaches and pain that never seemed to lessen; but what was the most infuriating part about her deterioration was the fact that there was nothing- absolutely nothing- I could do.  
  
There were no tricks up my sleeve; no plan that ended in kruge and triumph.  
  
Nothing.  
  
I couldn’t forgive her, but I had been fully prepared to do whatever I could to keep her alive.  
  
But I wasn’t prepared for her to die.  
  
So as I gazed down at her solemn, unmoving face, I was appalled to find myself on the verge of blurting out something sentimental and ridiculous like, “Please don’t die, Meiyu, I’m not ready,” when her eyes crept open, taking in my face with muddled confusion.   
  
I got up so fast I nearly knocked my chair over.   
…  
  
Meiyu was moved into one of the many spare rooms of the Van Eck mansion, and there she stayed: rail-thin, scowling, and mind-numbingly stubborn as ever.  
  
The Medik said she was lucky to be alive. Her heart didn’t stop beating. Her organs continued to function, although not very well. Her mind seemed sharp as ever. She could walk. She could breathe. She could do a hundred things as well as she was able to before.  
  
But her magic, which had been part of her since she was born, was completely gone. Barren. It left a dessert where an ocean once roared, and now, she had no choice but to finally rest.  
  
Meiyu knew how to speak six languages, before.  
  
Now, she had to learn how to speak.  
  
Words seemed to slip from her grasp and dance just beyond her reach, taunting her. She would reach for one word and grab another that seemed totally unrelated. Her sentences began clearly enough but soon went down a path that sounded little more than babbling.  
  
It frustrated her. Humiliated her.  
  
She saw all of it as weakness.  
  
I saw it as unbreakable strength.  
  
But Meiyu was a proud woman who could never accept anything less than perfection.  
  
She gave up speaking in front of us- especially Inej and I- and instead wrote what she wanted to say; somehow, _that_ she could do. In her spare time she learned words and phrases from a language wholly based on hand gestures from a deaf Shu man and his wife, and we, in turn, learned to interpret it.  
  
She wrote, too. For hours. Days. Sometimes, she wrote all day and all night without stopping, as if the words couldn’t come any faster; as if she couldn’t find it in herself to stop until her story was told. When I finally had the gall (or audacity) to ask what she was writing, she merely spared me a glance and continued to scratch away, silent as ever.   
  
Of course, her memories were sporadic at best. They came and went at the oddest of times. I learned to introduce myself every time she saw me; I let _her_ come to _me._  
  
Every day, I told her how business was, and although she didn’t answer, she listened.  
  
She listened, but she never said a word.  
  
So today, when I turned to go, it came as a surprise to see her motion for me to stay.  
  
I looked over at her.  
  
_“I heard you,”_ she signed slowly. “ _I slept, and you spoke to me. You were there.”_  
  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lied.  
  
“ _Oh_.” She smiled at that, but it was a tight, uncomfortable manipulation of bones and muscle that told me she was caught off guard; embarrassed. “ _Who-?“_  
  
“Kaz,” I told her. “Kaz Brekker.”  
  
Her answering nod was more than a little befuddled.  
  
We parted ways without a word.  
  
…  
  
Later, I heard her thank Inej for coming to help her.  
  
Her speech was heavy. It dragged its feet, but it was full of dignity.  



	53. The Golden Dragon

Naj slung his coat off and headed straight through the kitchen doors- the place he’d spent half his childhood in, surrounded by friends of his mother. “ _What business_ ,” he called in Shu.  
  
“ _Eh- nothing much.”_ The cook barely looked up from his work. _“Lijuan! Brekker lai’le!”_  
  
 _“Oh?”_ Lijuancraned her neck around to glare at him. She had long, curling black hair tied up in a tight bun for work and fierce brown eyes that seemed to challenge you as much as welcome you. “ _Where were you, ei? It’s late, and people are hungry!”_  
  
 _“Ma was bad this morning,”_ he said shortly, pushing his sleeves up to wash his hands.  
  
Her hard look lost its cutting edge, but she didn’t say anything; he hated when people did, so she turned her back to him and began her usual complaining. _“The lunch rush is insane.”_ She dumped the noodles into the strainer and cringed from the heat. _“You better hurry up-“_  
  
 ** _“_** _What do you think I’m doing?”_ he demanded, already cutting the vegetables into thin sticks.  
  
Lijuan jabbed a finger at the line of orders pinned up on the shelf. _“Look at these people! All different! All of them!”_ She swiped the knife from its place and began carving the beef into thick red slices, growling. _“Aiyo! It’s like they’re_ trying to _kill me!”_  
  
Naj snorted. This was Lijuan Elizabeth Vos: the oldest daughter of a Ketterdam dockworker and a Shu woman; the girl who had helped “Brekker’s kid” get a job at the _Golden Dragon;_ the girl who was caustic and clever and wholly uninterested in acting the part of an obedient daughter.  
  
_“I can tell why Ma hired you,”_ he smirked, lighting the flames for the stove.  
  
 _“Listen.”_ Lijuan gathered up the meat and tossed it into the wok. _“Your mother (peace be upon her) hired me because I’m the best cook in the West Side.”_ A vicious dash of soy sauce. _“_ I got _this job fair and square- which is more than I can say for_ you _.”_ He scowled, and she bent over another pan to taste the sauce, lips twitching with amusement at his disgruntled expression. “ _Yes?_ ” she asked innocently.  
  
Grumbling, he hoisted the pot of soup off the heat and set it aside with a clang. _“Saints, you’re mean! Why do I even talk to you?”_  
  
“ _Because you like her!”_ a voice piped up.  
  
The soup ladle wobbled slightly, but Naj righted himself and begin spooning it into bowls, his red ears the only sign of his flustered state. “ _Your sister’s a bully,”_ he called jokingly.   
  
_“I am not,”_ Lijuan retorted, her smile hidden in a cloud of steam.  
  
_“She likes you a lot.”_ A young girl walked past- Hualing- arms stacked with dirty dishes and eyes sparkling with mirth. “ _Actually, she thinks you’re cute- for a Kerch.”_  
  
“ _Cute_?” Naj looked pleased to the point of absurdity.   
  
Mortified, Lijuan hissed, _“Shut up, twerp,”_ and hacked at the bitter melon with cheeks dyed red.  
  
Naj smirked, and when he nicked himself, he didn’t even care. “ _So,”_ he drawled, nearly laughing, “ _you think I’m cute_?” His eyebrows went up at the panic that flashed across her face, and he leaned in, mouth curling upwards. “ _It’s alright,”_ he assured her. “ _I think I am, too.”_  
  
Lijuan pressed her lips together, flushed with humiliation. _“It’s not funny, Naj_ ,” she said lowly.  
  
Naj’s teasing smirk dropped.  
  
Hualing’s sister’s hands stilled their movements.  
  
The cook pretended to look the other way.   
  
Eyes sparkling with angry tears, she swept the tray onto her shoulder and strode out of the kitchen with her head held high: utterly determined to never look his way again.  
  
Everyone went back to their own business, but the awkwardness remained.  
  
_“She really does like you,”_ Hualing offered.  
  
“ _Yeah,”_ he muttered, “ _and now she thinks I’m a cocky, insensitive ass.”_  
  
“ _Well_ …” Trying not to laugh, she rinsed the copper pot and flipped it upside down to dry, “ _You treat her a lot better than most of the guys here. You’re nice.”_ She paused. “ _I thought you’d be-”_  
  
 _“What?”_ His expression turned flinty. _“My father?”_  
  
She sighed, soapy water up to her elbows. _“Naj,”_ she said matter-of-factly _, “The Dragon may be your mother, but like it or not, you will_ always be _Kaz Brekker‘s son_ _. Saints, my parents nearly has a heart attack when they heard you worked with us!”_  
  
He found himself chuckling at her candor. _“Yeah, I bet they did.”_  
  
 _“They tried to get Lijuan to quit, but she said no.”_ Huaying scrubbed at the blackened scum off the bottom of the pan, smiling down faintly. “ _So did I.”_  
  
Naj picked up a rag and began drying the dishes.  
  
Huaying dunked the pot one more time before tipping it to dry. _“Ask her to the dance.”_ She grinned at his grimace. “ _What?”_ she asked impishly _._ “ _If you don’t, someone else will.”_  
  
 _“She’s right, you know!”_ The cook called.  
  
Naj scowled, but when the smiling cook with laugh lines permanently embedded in his face ambled past to slap the young, glowering man on the back, he couldn’t help but chuckle. Ma was sick, Lijuan hated his guts, and he was getting relationship advice from a twelve-year-old- but sometimes, when he stopped and thought about it, he remembered how good it felt to laugh.  
  
(Strange, isn’t it? Life goes on, whether we realize it or not.)  



	54. Sway (Year 13)

  
I saw her sitting down on the chair, staring out of the window. Her face was turned to the light and she had tucked her arms around her legs, sitting quietly. She was sad. I could see it in how she held herself. She looked away like she wanted to disappear. I could see it in her eyes. They were far away and blank. I saw the glint of gold in her hand. Streaks of silver wove through her dark hair, overtaking it, and her face was worn. I didn’t dare approach her now, even after three years and everything between them; her threat still hung in the air between us.  
  
“She’s not doing well, Kaz.” Wylan’s voice made me stiffen.  
  
“I know that,” I said shortly.  
  
He shook his head, sighing. “The doctor says her heart’s in bad shape. So are her lungs. Apparently she’s been taking medicine for pain, but it’s gotten… out of control.”  
  
“Is she addicted?” I asked bluntly.  
  
Wylan winced. “She’s needed the drugs for so long her body craves them now.”  
  
I swore under my breath.  
  
“I don’t know if she could stop if she wanted too.”  
  
I thought back to her burning eyes, telling me that she had it under control- that she was fine-but deep down I could see: she had already started to slip. I should have done something. I should have made her- forced her- to stop.  
  
It seemed my list of “should haves” never stopped growing.  
  
His voice dropped to a low murmur. “Her liver and kidneys are suffering from the drugs. He’s forcing her cut back on them to keep them from shutting down completely.”  
  
“I bet she’s thrilled with that.”  
  
“She’s not happy, but she’s agreed to try,” he said quietly. He glanced at me, cautious. “How…how did it go? The last time you tried to talk with her about it?”  
  
“Well, she remembered that she hated me.”  
  
“Oh.” He retreated a bit at my biting tone. “You were good for one another; you helped each other. Now you’re like oil and water,” he murmured sadly. “And…there’s something else that’s bothering me. She looks… _aged_ \- and she’s only- what- forty? But I don’t think it’s from the drugs…” His perceptiveness surprised me. “She’s very sick, isn’t she?  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“How much?”  
  
“I don’t know.” A lie, and Wylan knew it.  
  
He nodded anyway. “I’m going to talk to her. You should, too.”  
  
I didn’t respond.  
  
Carefully he padded into the room, stopping when he caught sight of her. She was too far inside her head to hear him. With a gentle nudge, he tapped her on the shoulder.  
  
She looked up and tried to smile, but I could see the heaviness in her. There was a redness filming her eyes, and she looked like ice that was webbed with cracks. “Wylan.”  
  
He leaned down and kissed her cheek in greeting. “Hello, Meiyu.” His voice was much softer than usual. She brushed her lips against his cheek in return and pulled back.  
  
“Are you alright?” His eyes scanned her and I saw his worry behind the teasing words.  
  
“I’m fine, Wylan.” She looked back at the light. “Just… tired.” The glint of gold slipped away from her hand, and she pushed her hair back. My stomach dropped as a clump pulled away from her head and floated to the floor. She shook a few strands of her hands without looking at him.  
  
Wylan’s eyes flicked down and up in a flash, but I saw the solemn set of his mouth as he gazed at her emaciated frame.  
  
It was getting worse.  
  
We all knew it. I suspected it was accelerated by the stress of the past few years. She didn’t seem to pay it much mind; in business she was more ruthless as ever, but there was a weariness now that was leaching away a bit of her light as each day passed.  
  
She folded her arms. “Look. I know you all think I’m fucked up in the head from everything that’s happened, so you c-can stop looking at me like t-that.”  
  
Wylan closed his mouth. “I don’t think you’re fucked up in the head.”  
  
“Sure you don’t,” she muttered. There was a dry rustling, and she popped something in her mouth, sucking obliviously until she finally noticed Wylan’s too-long stare. “Oh, for the love of…” With a huff she held up a small square of paper so he could read the label. “It’s _candy_ , W-Wylan…. Hard… candy.”  
  
“Oh.” He went pink. “Sorry,” he offered sheepishly.  
  
“Yes, well, m-most pain…med-medications don’t come in,” she peered at the tiny writing, ‘strawberry delight’.” Her eyes flicked up to his, and her eyes sparked with a hint of mirth, even though her face was blank.  
  
He went even redder, but he avoided her gaze.   
  
Her eyes dimmed. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to m-make you uncomfortable.” She crumpled the paper up and tucked it in her pocket. “Actually, I was trying to m-make a joke.”  
  
“Oh.” His smile was strained. “Ha ha.”   
  
She gave him one of her classic “looks.”  
  
He chuckled for real this time. “I’m sorry. I just…I’ve always had trouble telling when you’re joking. Your face barely changes.”  
  
“C-comedy has never been my strong point,” she grumbled.  
  
“You have a poker face that could rival…” the name died in his throat at the stony expression on her face.  
  
“Is it… p-possible… to have o-one conversation that _doesn’t_ involve him?” Her words began to break apart, and she took a deep breath, calming herself.  
  
“Have you talked with him yet?”  
  
Her eyes became flinty. “No.”  
  
Wylan sighed. “He’s worried about you.”  
  
“Do I look like I want his concern?” she asked sharply.  
  
“Ummm…” Wylan shifted under her sharp glare. “…No?”  
  
She snorted. “Anyways, his worry is next to useless by this point.”  
  
“What do you mean?” His voice was carefully controlled.  
  
She looked up, searching for words. Calm resignation came over her. “I’m dying, Wylan. I’ll be gone in three months.”  
  
My stomach dropped to my feet.  
  
“Meiyu...” Wylan looked haggard.  
  
She waved away his pained expression. “Saints, Wylan, it’s not like I’m not going to die _now_. I’ve been more than lucky to live this long as is.”  
  
“Does Naj no?”  
  
She looked away. “I think he suspects.” Her voice wobbled slightly. “He’s always been too smart for his own good.” A tear slid down her face, and she shoved it away impatiently.  
  
“What will you do?”  
  
“I don’t know.” She watched the clouds move across the sky. “Live, I guess.”  
  
“You don’t sound very happy about that,” he tried to joke.  
  
She didn’t return his smile.  
  
Her eyes turned back to the window, and I saw her begin to fade again. I wasn’t sure how long it was before she’d come back.  
  
Wylan watched her, racking his brain for something to pull her out of her depression. Then something came to him, and he smiled. He held out his hand, and her eyebrows furrowed slightly. “We should dance,” he explained.   
  
She blinked. “ _What?”_  
  
“Would you like to dance?” he repeated.  
  
Her eyes skittered around, not meeting his. “With...me?” She sounded almost shy.  
  
“Why not? Jesper has two left feet and I need the practice.” His voice was light. “You’re too pretty to be sitting there by yourself, Meiyu.”  
  
“Pretty?” A cracked laugh erupted from her. “Look at me, Wylan: I’m a corpse.”  
  
“Well, fine, maybe you’re not ‘pretty’,” he shrugged, “but you’re still beautiful, grey hair and all.” His words were sincere in the way only Wylan could be.  
  
I was startled to see a tiny, lovely smile blossom from her like a flower in the sun. “Wylan Van Eck,” she said, “I’m glad to know you.” Gently she sat up and pecked him on the cheek, and he blushed a cherry red.   
  
He smiled at her and held his hand out again.  
  
Hesitantly, she took it and unfolded her arms and legs, wincing at the stiffness, but her movement was fluid as ever.  
  
Wylan pulled her up and swept into a ridiculously low bow. “My lady.”  
  
Her humor flicked back to life and she curtseyed gracefully.  
  
She rested her hand on his shoulder and he placed his hand on her waist. Slowly, smoothly, they began to sway back and forth. The first few steps were quiet and a bit awkward, but with time they began to relax into each other. They stopped looking at their feet and started looking at each other.  
  
Wylan spun her and she twirled, eyes closed in peace. She tried to spin him and had to go on tiptoes for him to fit. He collided with her arm, and she laughed at his pink face. She spun herself outwards and they came together again, arms linked above each other’s head as they circled. Wylan was tall enough that she had to tip her head back to see him, but she smiled as they began to get knotted up in their arms.  
  
I heard Naj laugh at them, and she turned around, smiling at her boy, now almost seventeen. “Naj! C-come dance with me!  
  
He cringed. “Ma…”  
  
Her smile turned teasing. “It’ll be good practice for that lovely girl you’ve been seeing. What’s her name? _Lijuan_?”  
  
“ _Mother_!” His entire face was burning now.  
  
Wylan grinned. “So it _is_ Lijuan!”  
  
“Uncle Wylan!” he hissed.  
  
“The Spring Festival is coming! Ask her to the dance now before some other man snatches her up!” She shook her head at him. “You are always s-so brave, but around her, you’re limp _mian_. _Buhao_. _Bie zai mian!_ You must be bold!”  
  
He passed a hand over his face and groaned. “Please stop comparing my love life to noodles. It’s humiliating.”  
  
She walked over to him and pecked his cheek. “You’re young, and so is she. You should… enjoy being young together.”  
  
_I want you to be happy_ is what she meant.   
  
She held his hands in hers. “Dance with me, Naj- just this once- and you won’t have to ever again!” she promised, eyes sparkling with mischief.  
  
He rolled his eyes. “Fine,” he groused, “but I’m holding you to that.”  
  
She winked at him and he grinned.  
  
It was so rare to see them this happy anymore.  
  
Playing the part, he shuffled over and tapped Wylan on the shoulder. “Mind if I cut in?”  
  
Meiyu laughed at his chivalry.  
  
Wylan inclined his head graciously and let go of her hand. He left the room, and returned with his flute. “We should have some music,” he insisted. Putting it to his lips with a small smile, he began playing an old Shu Han folksong with a rolling, soft melody.  
  
“I remember this!” She looked at Wylan, deeply moved. “How?”  
  
Naj answered for his uncle. “You hum it all the time, Ma.”  
  
“I do, don’t I?” She wondered. “And you know how to play it just from that?”  
  
Wylan smiled with his eyes, nodding as he continued to play.  
  
“Saints...” Her eyes misted over as she listened, enraptured by the music. “You play it so beautifully, Wylan. It’s just like I remember.”  
  
Naj crossed his arms. “I thought we were dancing?” he complained good-naturedly.  
  
She gave him a look, and he barked out a laugh. He bowed to his mother, and she returned the curtsy smoothly, her skirt sinking to the ground.  
  
Hand in hand, she gazed at him, her eyes full of memories. “I remember doing this when you were little,” she chuckled. “You used to love dancing. Then you grew up- and now you hate it!”  
  
He shrugged. “I still do, you know.” I was struck by how similar it sounded to me.  
  
She smirked. “Oh, I know you do. Which is why I still make you.” She placed her fingers on his shoulder and clasped his hand to hers. “Don’t step on my feet, young man,” she warned, mock stern. “I’m… still your mother.”  
  
Naj’s face sobered.  
  
She still said it like a question.  
  
His smile returned, but only just. “I won’t. Promise.”  
  
They began to dance in a small circle, the steps simpler but more familiar: an old Kerch folk dance that wove in and out in parallel lines, always close but never touching, before finally coming together to sway and turn in the ghost of a waltz.  
  
She leaned her cheek down on his chest.  
  
He spun her and pulled her back.  
  
Their movements were full of trust.  
  
Wylan's song drifted down the hall, and I wondered if I’d ever hear such a thing again.  
  
Careful, I stepped into the room, and Wylan looked up from his flute. “Kaz.” A greeting.  
  
Meiyu’s head snapped up, face guarded.  
  
Naj turned my way: his postured stiff as he glanced between his mother and myself. I could see he still didn’t trust me around her; the wound was still raw for him.  
  
She slowly separated herself from him and walked over.  
  
Wylan and Naj slipped out of the room, glancing back as they went.  
  
Her arms were folded defensively in front of her, but she didn’t look like she wanted to fight. “How much did you hear?”  
  
“All of it.”  
  
“Ah.”  
  
We stood like soldiers on opposite sides of a battlefield, trying to make peace.  
  
“I have something to give you.” She lifted a thin silver chain off her neck and I saw her old iron wedding band hanging from it.  
  
“You kept it?”  
  
She didn’t answer. Her long fingers undid the clasp and slid the ring into her palm; she took my hand and placed the iron ring in it, curling fingers my hand around it. “I revoked my Curse yesterday. I return this to you now, and… I forgive you.”  
  
I couldn’t speak.  
  
Her eyes were downcast. “You did… the best you c-could. I see that now.” She pulled away.  
  
Numb, I tucked it in my pocket next to my heart. “I can’t forgive you, yet.”  
  
She cocked her head, calculating but not vindictive. “Forgiveness is much harder… than revenge. But how can we love someone if we can’t forgive them?”  
  
“Forgiveness has never been my strong point.”  
  
“Nor was it mine. But dying puts things in perspective,” she said, her lips turning up.  
  
I stiffened at her black humor. “That’s not funny,” I growled. A horrible feeling was building in my throat and I clenched my teeth to keep it down.  
  
Her smile fell away. “Of course it’s n-not f-funny.” She sank down in her seat. “I’m going to die.”  
  
I couldn’t meet her eyes, because the emptiness in them felt worse than a bullet to the chest.  
  
“Dragons are loyal to a fault,” she mumbled distantly. “And I have the unfortunate habit of not letting go.” Her hand wandered to the pills stashed in her pocket, and she gulped them down without sparing me so much as a glance. Resigned and indifferent. “It’s an unbelievably stupid combination.”  
  
“You’re not stupid, Meiyu.”  
  
A laugh rattled out of her like pennies in a tin. “No- I am. I’m the stupidest person I know.” Her stare blurred with exhaustion, and she sunk back into her quiet. “The truth is,” she finally said, “I’m tired…more tired than I’ve ever been in my entire life.” When she looked up, her gaze had sharpened to a knife’s point. “If I fall asleep… then let me sleep.”  
  
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “You can’t ask me to do that,” I said flatly.   
  
Her eyes wandered around the room in complete defiance of my ire. The sheets around her rustled as she rolled over, rifling through the dusty beside drawer with unsatisfied mutters.  
  
“What-?”  
  
“Jurda,” she answered longingly. “It’s been ages since I’ve had a good smoke-“  
  
“Meiyu. Will you stop?-“  
  
“It’s j-just one cigarette. Ghezen!” She drawled over her shoulder, searching for the single stick of jurda she had guilted Jesper into giving her.  
  
“Your lungs won’t be able to handle-“  
  
“They will, trust me,” she snorted, digging deeper into the drawer with a frustrated scowl. Annoyed, she simply yanked the drawer out the nightstand and frowned down at its disappointing emptiness. “Where?-“  
  
My patience snapped.  
  
“Here.” I whipped the jurda from my coat pocket and thrust it out to her. “Here’s your damned jurda. Just take it- you’re dead anyways!”  
  
Wholly unaffected by my words, she plucked the roll from my fingers and thanked me with a nod, lighting it with a quick spark of her old fire. The tip of the roll glowed red-gold, and she breathed out a billowing stream of acrid smoke that curled around her head like a crown. “Now.” She inhaled deeply. Exhaled slowly. “What…were you saying?”  
  
“I’m not going to help you die, Meiyu,” I said flatly, the smell of smoke burning my nose.  
  
She ignored my last comment, the smoldering cylinder teetering perilously where it was pinched between her index and middle finger. “That’s not,” she said between puffs, “what I’m asking you to do.” Her words came slow and steady as distant thunder after a storm, and the infuriating calmness that radiated off her nearly drove me insane.  
  
“Why?” I finally demanded. “Why me?”  
  
The question seemed to disturb her- but its effect was gone in an instant; shrugging, she unwrapped her lips from the jurda, breathed in, and coughed without enthusiasm. “No one else can,” was the answer she finally settled on. She went back to smoking without another word.  
  
I stalked over to the window and glared at the sky that mocked me with its brightness.  
  
Even though she didn’t move, I could feel how her eyes followed my every movement.  
  
“Do you think you’re being noble?” I grit.   
  
“No.” Her voice was level, and she sounded faintly amused. Challengingly, almost. With a halfhearted wave of her hand, she beat the smoky haze from her head, the beginnings of a migraine playing across her brow. “I’m being realistic.”  
  
The scent of the drug hung heavy around us.  
  
I rounded on her and wrenched the jurda out of her hand, ignoring how the rain of ashes burned my skin. “Why, then?”   
  
We were nose to nose.  
  
Her next words were deceptively mild. “Look at me, Kaz.”  
  
“I-“  
  
Suddenly her fingers were wrapped around my arm, yanking me closer. “No- not like that- not like you always do!” Her talons dug angry furrows into my arm as she snarled. “ _Look. At. Me_.”  
  
I looked, and it was…  
  
“Exactly.” Sitting back, she took the jurda from me and put it to her lips with a sharp, businesslike jab. Her eyelids fluttered as she sucked down a long, flickering lungful of smoke, and when she spoke, and the words were grating as a whetstone against raw steel. “ _Ni ting’donma?_ Soon, there’ll be nothing left worth saving,” she muttered. “I am a dragon, and I refuse to die a shell.”  
  
I knew what she was saying- I knew _why_ she was saying it- but it was a hard thing to control my temper by that point.  
  
“You’re already a shell, Meiyu.” I said cruelly. “You just don’t know it yet.”  
  
Another listless drag.   
  
“If you don’t want to live, then I’m not going to waste my time trying to save you.”  
  
A plume of smoke billowed out from her pursed lips. “Thank you,” she murmured.  
  
Her eyes were distant.  
  
Head pounding, leg throbbing, I sat next to her: drained to the core.   
  
“It will be better, this way.” Her golden eyes flicked up to mine, and I knew she spoke of Naj. “The light deserves to shine. It deserves better than… Well.” She snorted. “Me.”  
  
I kept my silence.  
  
She tapped the ashes over the edge of the bed and sighed. “You look tired, Kaz-”  
  
“I am,” I snapped shortly.  
  
Her eyes charted the lines in my face, pausing from her occupation only to utter a dry, bemused snort at the damning evidence of my aging. “Well,” she remarked, sardonic and almost bemused, “I suppose… none of us are what we once were.” She smirked as she said this, but the rings under her eyes were dark as bruises, and her smile was colorless.  
  
We sat side-by-side in silence until sleep and gravity took their toll.  
  
Bleary and exhausted, her head nodded from its own weight; the smoldering jurda slipped unnoticed from her fingers, so I slid it out of her grip and crushed it under my foot.  
  
Her eyelids fluttered, but other than that, she didn’t try to fight me.  
  
“Go to sleep, Meiyu.”  
  
No longer hearing me, she slept.   
  
The head of my cane dug into my hand hard enough to bruise, and I wished she would live another fifty years. I wished she had never tried to save my life with Blood Healing, because I no matter what I had told her, I didn’t _want_ her to die. I wanted to beg the Saints to spare her, because at underneath the smoke and drugs and sickness she was fierce and kind, wise and strong, and she deserved a long, happy life with her children.  
  
But instead, I held her hand.  
  
And I didn’t let go.  
  
 **…**  
  
**Kings and Queens**  
  
“Good to see you again, Brekker.”  
  
I blinked awake to the sound of a voice I hadn’t heard in…so long.  
  
“Leave. Now.” Kaz sounded livid.  
  
(Ah, yes. The Barrel Boss and the Too-Clever Fox, face-to-face at last.)  
  
“She _asked_ me to come-”  
  
“I don’t care if she _paid_ you. Leave. She’s in no state to see you.”  
  
“Says who?”  
  
“Me.”  
  
“Saints, Brekker, what are you- her _prison_ guard?-“  
  
I heard the click of the safety as a gun was cocked back. “Say that again.”  
  
“Da, what are you-“  
  
“Step away, Naj.”  
  
“Kaz.”  
  
Silence stretched between them all.  
  
“You better not shoot him!” I called from my spot in the chair. “I mean it!”  
  
He didn’t answer, but I knew he could hear me.  
  
“Five minutes.” I heard the thump of his cane and the jarring slam of the door made the whole house shudder in fear.  
  
My door eased open with a creak, and I sighed. “After all these years, you still push.”  
  
“Sometimes people need to be pushed.”  
  
“Not that much, and not with Kaz!” I snorted. “He really will shoot you, you know.”  
  
“I’m not worried.” Nikolai stood in the doorway, his Sturmhond disguise abandoned. The Ravkan King was as grand as ever: impeccably dressed, with his fine gloves and that thick golden hair combed back in a (slightly) more practical style than in his youth. That lordly shine had faded slightly, but the green of his eyes winked bright and wild as ever. “Hello, Meiyu.”  
  
I felt myself smile. “Hello, Nikolai.”  
  
His absurdly polished, custom-made black leather boots tapped along the floor, and all at once, he stood in front of me: Nikolai Lanstov, First of His Name; Tsar of Ravka; The Scarred King; The Too-Clever Fox; Sturmhold. “It’s been a long time, your grace.” Like the king he was, he took my skeletal hand in his and pressed his lips to it. “I remain, as always, your greatest admirer,” he declared, chivalrous, dramatic, and over-the-top as ever.  
  
My lips curled in a smirk at his gentlemanly tone. “You’re ridiculous.”  
  
“Charming,” he corrected, “I’m charming, _almost_ as much as I’m handsome!”  
  
I snorted as much as my lungs would allow me. “Flirting, now? What would your wife say?”  
  
“Oh, she knows my heart belongs to her.”  
  
“As it should be,” I warned.  
  
He laughed, but as the sounded faded and the conversation lapsed, and I could sense him examining me much too shrewdly as I produced another roll of jurda I had swiped back from Kaz not so long ago, lifting it with a single smug spark.  
  
Even Dirtyhands had his lapses.  
  
“You smoke?”  
  
Smoke curled from my mouth and floated past my raised brows. “I did before.”  
  
The answering smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “So I remember.”  
  
We both jumped a bit when Naj thrust his head through the now-opened door, scowling. “You’re not supposed to smoke, Ma.” He sounded like a bartender who’d just thrown out a dozen rowdy drunkards after the longest shift of his life- so worn and irritated and _done_ that he couldn’t care less about Tsar of Ravka sitting in front of him. “The Medik said it’s coating your lungs in shit-“  
  
“Well, _my_ Medik said it relaxes me,” I said smoothly, but not unkindly.  
  
Naj barked out a laugh. “He thinks smoking will cure anyone of anything- and it doesn’t help that you scared the other one away when he tried to make you stop,” he added.  
  
“ _Xingan_ -“  
  
“Could you not, Ma?” he bit out, hand over his face.  
  
I closed my mouth, chagrined. The stress of too many years had managed to leak through his growl, and when he clenched his jaw, he was the spitting image of his father.  
  
He’d never snapped at me like that before.  
  
Sitting there, in front of my teenage son, I felt oddly… young- no, not young- _ashamed_ : deeply, penetratingly _ashamed_ in a way I hadn’t felt in… ages, really. I opened my mouth, but I didn’t know what to say to make myself seem less foolish; less weak.  
  
“Just…” Out of words, he shook his head, closing the door behind him with a soft snap.  
  
Naj’s accusing presence hung heavy in the air.  
  
My mouth was dry and sticky from the smoke, and though I swallowed, the damned jurda sat on my tongue like a lie on a conscience. It occurred to me that I felt faintly sick. “Forgive my son for his behavior,” I said blithely, trying to ignore my rising nausea. “He only means the best.”  
  
“I can see that.” Nikolai wasn’t laughing now.  
  
Figuring I could take a short break, I set the jurda aside and arranged myself so I could talk to him without slouching. “Well?” I inquired shortly. “Go on.”  
  
“…Brekker said you’re dying,” he hedged.  
  
“Mmmhm.”  
  
“You _married_ him.”  
  
“For a time.”  
  
“You married _him_.”  
  
I scowled. “I still don’t know why you asked.”  
  
He shrugged with that careless royal arrogance. “Every man makes one enormous, catastrophic mistake before he meets the love of his life,” he proclaimed airily.  
  
My scowl deepened. “I see.”  
  
His eyes glinted with mirth, but he shook his head, rueful. “How in the world did Kaz Brekker manage to steal the Queen of Dragons,” he said, almost to himself.  
  
“I’m not much of a dragon anymore.” I felt a cough itch its way up my windpipe. It whooped and made my whole chest ache. “And you can’t steal something… if it’s given to you,” I wheezed.  
  
Damned jurda.  
  
Damned Medik.  
Nikolai reached into his pocket and pulled out a very familiar ring. Silver, set with the finest Zemeni blood rubies. “For a lovely lady who could kill us all.” He offered it to me with a small, crooked smile that fit him much better than those rakish, devil-may-care grins.  
  
Gingerly, I accepted it from him, turning it over and over in thought. The light made the gems sparkle and the silver gleam. How strange to see it again, feel a ring that wasn’t a circlet of rough iron. Yes, I was glad it was so different.  
  
I never wanted to be married again.  
  
“How is your wife?” I asked. “Your children?”  
  
“Well,” he replied, “my oldest girl stole a ship from my navy-”  
  
“-You _let_ her steal a ship from your navy,” I corrected.  
  
He winked roguishly. “How can I deny her such an adventure?”  
  
I rolled my eyes at his sly-fox grin. “Just remember, _my king_ : your sweet wife has Tiger’s blood,” I pointed out. “Her people have a saying, you know: _Women’de zhuǎzi hěn zhǎng-“_ _“_ Our claws are long.” “Yes.” The jurda flared and crumbled as it continued to burn. “But in your wife’s case, it is more like, ‘Mǔqīn’de _zhuǎzi hěn zhǎng’-_ a _mother’s_ claws are long.” 

“Eagle’s have long claws, too…” 

I raised my eyebrows meaningfully.

  
He chuckled. “Pray for me, Meiyu,” he agreed.  
  
“Hm.” Resolute (and a little miffed at being scolded like some wayward adolescent- by my own son, no less!) I crushed the sad remains of my lovely, stolen jurda and let the ashes fall to the floor. “So, other than your runaway ship and privateer daughter, your family is well?”  
  
“Everyone’s fine, Meiyu.”  
  
“Good.” I nodded contently. “Good.”  
  
He watched as I flipped the ring round and round in my fingers. “Did you ever find your daughters?”  
  
I laughed without humor. “ _Daughter_. And no.”  
  
“I’m sorry,” he said soberly.  
  
I scoffed. “Everyone keeps saying that. _Sorry_.” I rolled the smooth silver band between two fingers. “Life isn’t about getting what you want. Best be happy with what little you’re given.”  
  
“And are you? Happy- that is?”  
  
“I...”  
  
My mind flickered out for a moment and went back to a time when this same question was asked to me from a very different source.  
  
How long ago it all seemed… How very far away...  
  
I turned the ring to the light and tracked the dozen-points of rosy color that leapt and danced across the ceiling. “Those days in Ravka… They seem like a dream…” I tilted my head back. “Sometimes I ask myself: was that _me_? Did I fight on the Western front? Did I dance across a golden floor of a golden Palace? ‘No,’ I say. ‘It can’t be. Not me…’”  
  
I lost track of time and present. I drifted in a haze.  
  
“Meiyu?”  
  
I jerked back into myself.  
  
“Are you alright?”  
  
The smile I scraped together at his troubled look was delicate and held together by a string. “Remembering has always been hard for me. Especially now.” I weighed the cool band of silver in my hand. “And you, Nikolai? Are you happy?”  
  
His expression was quiet as the True Sea on a sunny day. “I think so.”  
  
“You can say you’re happy if you want, you know,” I said. “I won’t be offended.”  
  
He shook his head, a smile tugging his lips. “Yes. Saints, I’m happy.”  
  
“Good.” I held the ring up to the light and admired the fire and ice trapped within the gems. “Be honest about your happiness, Nikolai. Embrace it.” I looked back at him and smiled like I knew the folly of my own wishful words. “Even if it never lasts, you may never feel such a thing again.”  
  
A shadow flit across his scarred face.  
  
I set the ring on the table and rose, ignoring the pounding throb in my head as I located the necessary papers and pen. “What’s the count, then?” I said over my shoulder.  
  
“Over a two hundred fifty thousand.”  
  
I closed my eyes. “So many.”  
  
“…For the record, I want it to be known that I didn’t come here solely for the money.” His voice held a drop of his old humor.  
  
“Ravka has shown mercy to my people,” I said firmly. “This is the least I can do.” Gritting my teeth against the shake in my hand, I jotted down the sum I owed and drew a vicious line next to my looping signature. “It’s an ungodly amount, same as always,” I grumbled.   
  
Nikolai took one look at the amount and barked out a laugh. “And I thought I was rich.”  
  
“You have no idea.” I blew on the ink and held it out to him. “Make sure those envoys of mine to use this well.” I smirked darkly. “Otherwise, they’ll regret it.”  
  
He took it, but kept his eyes on me.   
  
I curled my fingers around the cool metal, finally sliding the ring onto my hand. “You’re all they have, _moi tsar_. Promise me you won't forget them.” I peered at him, part disapproving, part sad. “And forgive Kaz for what he did. He is not himself.”  
  
He clasped my hand in his and told me he would.  
  
We talked of old times and battles won and laughed at the folly of young hearts. It was good to see an old friend again; remember such times for a time. But I was tired, and he saw it.  
  
He saw how I clung onto life even as it abandoned me.  
  
So he bid me farewell. Told me how glad he was to have known me, even for a short time; told me he’d send my love to his wife and children.  
  
And then he left.  
  
We both knew it was the last time we would ever speak to one another.  
 **  
**


	55. Knives (2 months later)

  
Inej stood in the doorway.  
  
I wondered how her slight stature managed to hold such strength.  
  
“I’m not here to fight,” I said, my voice clear and strong. With a grimace I pulled myself upright and out of the bed, lungs rattling from the effort. All my life, I was considered tall for a woman- tall and strong- and in just three months I had lost almost fifty pounds. I must have looked like I was spun glass to this legendary Wraith.  
  
“You shouldn’t be up.”  
  
I braced myself against the table, hunched like an old woman. “I’ll be dead very soon, so it doesn’t matter.” I breathed as deep as I could, and the sound was seeds rattling around in an empty gourd. “I asked to see you because I have something to give you, and something to say.”  
  
Naj’s eyes seemed to peer deep inside me from another face. “You don’t owe me anything.” Her face was touched with profound gratitude. “You brought me back to my son. To-“  
  
“Kaz?” I said dryly.  
  
“Yes,” she said softly. “I know you’ve never liked me- and I understand why- but I want to thank you. I will never be able to repay such kindness.”  
  
“Kindness,” I snorted. “Don’t thank me for my _kindness_.” My snort turned into a wet hack. I clenched the wood so hard it began to crack as I fought the urge to gag.   
  
Inej’s concern was echoed in her voice. “You should sit. You’re sick.”  
  
I smiled, and I knew my teeth were stained with blood. “I’ve been sick for a long time.” I lowered myself down with a low moan. “And what I did was…the only thing I _could_ do.” I peered at her shrewdly. “It must be hard to believe- that I wasn’t always _this_.”  
  
“From what I’ve heard, and seen, it’s not hard to believe at all.”  
  
I pushed what little hair I had back. “You and I- we are women of steel. We became weapons, because that is what the world demanded of us. Only, you became a freer of slaves, while I became little more than a prized fighting dog.”  
  
“You saved thousands of lives during the war.”  
  
“And I killed thousands to do it,” I countered dryly. “I am no Saint, Inej; I told Naj to follow in your footsteps and ignore Kaz and I. We aren’t the best examples.”  
  
Her gentle smile seemed to warm the very room. “He loves you very much.” That smile faded. “I couldn’t have hoped for a better mother for my son.”  
  
I did laugh at that, and it was a short, bitter sound. “Ah, Inej. I’ve been a sorry excuse for a mother these past few years.” I sighed. “The best thing I did was take myself away from that boy before I ruined him, too.”  
  
“You’re his mother, and he loves you.” Sadness clouded her gaze. “He doesn’t know me.”  
  
Now it was my turn to shake my head. “He never forgot you. Not really.” I folded my hands, one over the other. “When he was just a little thing, he asked me if you could miss someone you didn’t remember. He always- _always-_ wanted to know you. Oh, Wylan and Jesper and Nina told him as much as they could, but Kaz,” my lips turned up. “Well…you know how he is.”  
  
Her voice held so much quiet hope. “What was he like? Then?”  
  
I nodded towards the desk. “There’s a box. Open it.”  
  
She did, and her eyes widened.  
  
“I assume Kaz told you what these are.”  
  
She nodded, speechless.  
  
“Those are all mine. Years worth.” I sat back. “Cursemaker scales are steeped in memories, and those are the best of him.” I studied her. “They’re yours by right.”  
  
She touched them like they were priceless jewels. Her eyes jumped up to mine, and she closed the lid with a snap. “I can’t take these from you,” she said.  
  
I waved a hand. “I got to live them. You didn’t.” I folded my hands together. “One of them will explain why you were lost.”  
  
Her fingers stilled around the box.   
  
“I will not ask for forgiveness. Not for me.” I looked down. “She was the last of my family, Inej. The very last. And she was so young, and so alone.”  
  
Inej examined me and saw what I was trying to do. What I was trying to say to her. The respect in her eyes turned to something more wistful. “I can see why he fell in love with you.”  
  
Love. The very word left a foul taste in my mouth. “Love makes you weak.”  
  
Her head tilted. “Why?”  
  
“Why?” I almost cracked a rib from my grating laughter. “Look at me. Look at what I’ve become. Love has sucked me dry and left a shell.”  
  
“He cares for you,” she said, almost reproachful.  
  
I pressed my hand to my aching chest and slowed my breathing. “Fine. Perhaps he cares. But the more people you love, the weaker you are.” I swallowed my laughter, and the metallic taste of my own blood was hollow. “And that’s the truth.”  
  
There was such sorrow in her when she looked at me. “Kaz loves you,” she admitted.   
  
I smiled with no little irony. “So did my first husband.”  
  
Black fire lit in her eyes, and when she spoke to me, I heard the Wraith, and not Inej Ghafa, the Saint of the Sea. “He was your husband, and he treated you worse than some of the girls at the Menagerie. _That_ wasn't love.”   
  
I rolled my eyes at her fierce tone. It was so like all of the others- so _sincere_ \- and it pissed me off to no end. “I suspect it will be a comfort for you to know that in ten years of marriage, not once did Kaz say he say he loved me, much less bed me,” I said instead. “With you, he did both (more than once, I’d assume) otherwise Naj wouldn’t be here.”  
  
Her face flushed the slightest bit at my obvious meaning.  
  
I grunted. “Forgive me. I’m rude because I’m going to be dead soon.” The constant pain behind my eyes had grown into a throbbing headache, and with a quick jerk of my head, I brought my hand to my mouth and downed two of my pills from the tin.  
  
Just the feeling of them moving down my throat made me relax ever-so-slightly.  
  
Inej, bless her, didn’t say a word. But can you really tell a person who’s dying, “Stop taking that: it’s going to kill you”?  
  
No. You can’t.  
  
It’s redundant.  
  
“Love isn’t meant for people like me.” I made my voice bland as possible to mask the hurt as I knocked back a glass of lukewarm water. “At least, that’s what I’ve decided.”  
  
Inej came towards me and sat in the chair. Determined.  
  
I coughed. “What?”  
  
“The night you were attacked…” Her face was haunted. “I’ve never seen him like that.”  
  
Wary, I sat back.  
  
“Watching that man torture you was his worst nightmare come to life. He will never forgive himself for what happened to you,” she told me, “And when you left and didn’t come back…he knew Naj was the only person you saw, but Naj wouldn’t tell him anything about where you were- he was so angry…he just…”  
  
I found it harder and harder to maintain my composure.  
  
“Kaz just stood there and let him scream himself hoarse.” Her voice shook, and for a moment, Inej seemed to struggle herself. “After that, he went looking for you- always alone. We tried to tell him that you didn’t want to see him- but he wouldn’t listen…”  
  
The words aimed at me were fierce and sad and honest.  
  
Tears burned my eyes and my vision blurred.  
  
_I wouldn’t leave you_.  
  
“…And I don’t think he can bear the thought of you dying, because he _loves_ you.”  
  
“Stop,” I grit. “Please.” Finally- mercifully- I found I could speak without stumbling.  
  
“Meiyu-“  
  
I didn’t try to dampen my misery any longer. “Saints alive, do you think it gives me joy to hear how much my husband loved me-from _you_?”  
  
Inej tried to reach out to me but I lurched back.  
  
“Look at you!” I spat. “You had a son without even having to _try_! You had a husband who _loved_ you! You have your life, and I…“ I growled in frustration as my mouth fought to catch up with my brain. “It’s just not…”  
  
_Fair_.  
  
Childish as it was, _that’s_ what I wanted to say: it’s just not fair.  
  
All the air left me, and I slumped. “I’m going to die, Inej.”  
  
Sure, I’d known it for years- but it had never truly _hit_ me until I said it out loud.  
  
_I was going to die._  
  
Why? I then wanted to ask. _Why me?_ Why couldn’t I have one thing- _one thing_ \- to call my own! Why did this wraith of a woman have so much, while I had so little?  
  
“Meiyu, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’ve made you so unhappy.” Inej watched me collapse into myself with a helpless expression. “I’m trying to tell you that you are _loved_.“  
  
“M-my magic is g-gone,” I continued tartly. “ Some days I c-can barely s-s-speak, and I-I-“ I chewed on the words and spat them out as evenly as I could, “and I can _feel_ myself dying. Every day. So I’d prefer you d-didn’t, because it m-m-makes _this…_ so m-much worse.”  
  
“You have every right to be angry-”  
  
“I’m done talking about this,” I said firmly. “Move on.”  
  
Inej-finally- took the hint and let the subject drop.  
  
I closed my eyes and let the roiling emotions sink back down into my stomach; I took my sorrow and pushed it deep inside. “I have one last thing to give you.” Today, I had an echo of my old strength to rely on, so I heaved myself up again and made my way over to the desk, forcing myself to think of some happier things to mask the sadness.   
  
“You don’t have to give me anything else. Truly.”  
  
“Well, my daughter is long gone, and Naj?” I shook my head ruefully as flicked a hidden latch and pulled the long jade knife from the secret compartment. “I used to have to hide this from him when he was young,” I said over my shoulder. “Once he started to learn how to use them, every knife we owned became an instrument of death. And when Jesper showed him how to shoot his guns- ah, Saints. I died a thousand deaths.”  
  
Inej gave a small, weak laugh, and it was like a peace offering.  
  
I turned and balanced the blade flat between my hands. “This has been in my family for centuries. It is called _M’Kiz’Ikar_ \- Gathering Storm.” In one practiced motion I unsheathed it and spun it in my hand, watching the blade glint and sing. There was something comforting about the feel of it in my hand. It reminded me that I wasn’t always this; that I was a Queen, once.  
  
“It’s a fine blade.”  
  
“It is.” I twisted it around and sheathed it with a snap. “Traditionally, a knife like this is given to the strongest woman of your family.” I held it out to her handle first. “As the mother of my son, it is yours to wield.”  
  
Her eyes looked deep into mine, and she knew what I saw trying to say. Slowly, her hand reached out to take the blade.  
  
As it passed to her, I felt some phantom weight lift from my shoulders.  
  
One less thing to carry on the way.  
  
My fingers slipped from the blade. “I only wanted to save her.” I confessed softly. “I never meant for you to pay the price of our misery. All I can say is… I’m sorry. So very, very sorry.” I wrapped my hands together to keep them from shaking. “What we have done to you is unforgivable, but… even monsters can regret.”  
  
She stepped close to me. “I don’t think you’re a monster.”  
  
I held myself as far away as possible.  
  
“And I forgive you. Of course I do.” Her hand grazed mine, and I flinched. Somehow, forgiveness hurt so much more than hate.  
  
“I forgave you a long time ago, because that’s what family does.”  
  
“I have no family, save Naj.” I kept my gaze glued to the ground, hands tucked securely away.  
  
When she eventually spoke, it was with the most baffling kind of hesitancy. “Could you…tell me a more about him?”  
  
I considered her wearily. “What do you want to know?”  
  
There was a hunger in her - a need to know everything she could about her child- that I knew all too well. “Anything.”  
  
“Anything?” I murmured.  
  
She nodded.  
  
I thought. “Let me see…”  
  
She waited while I collected my thoughts.  
  
I breathed in. I breathed out.  
  
“When I was a girl,” I began, “I prayed for many things.”  
  
Inej listened, and I turned my eyes away.  
  
“I prayed to leave my village. I prayed for my brother to disappear. I prayed to be free.” I sighed. “Ah, Inej. I was selfish and desperate, and I prayed for a hundred selfish, desperate things.” I laughed bitterly. “Fool that I was, I got all that I asked for, and more.”  
  
“And Naj?”  
  
“Naj…” My bitterness receded then. “Many of my prayers have been answered,” I said, “but Naj was the only prayer that mattered.” I smiled, letting that warm glimmer of happiness grow to a small flame, which I cupped in my hands and held close to my heart. ”When he was little,” I started, “he was a joy. So sweet, that- when I was new- I truly doubted Kaz was his father.”  
  
Inej smiled at that.  
  
“And he was- _is_ \- so _smart_. _Ai_ , that boy has a mind like a steel trap! He could speak conversational Shu by the time he could read! And when he did read, he went through every book we could find, one after another.” I chucked, almost sheepish. “ _He_ taught _me_ how to read. Well, him and Jesper.”  
  
“You couldn’t read?” Surprise colored her voice.  
  
“Not a word.” I peered at her. “Are Suli girls taught to read?”  
  
“Not all. But I was.”  
  
“Ah.” I nodded. “I was lucky- I learned how to read and write when Naj did. Kaz and I taught him all we could: writing, mathematics, business, history- everything we never got, no?”  
  
Inej nodded.  
  
“He thought lessons were so boring. When he was about seven, he finally said to me, ‘ _Ama_ , why do I have to learn this! I’m never going to use it!’” I smirked. “I looked right him in the eye, and I said: ‘Naj, this is your education, and it is very important. Your mind is your greatest gift, and you must never, ever waste it.”  
  
Her voice was feather-soft. “What did he say to that?”  
  
I leaned back. “Well, he went very quiet for a moment- just thinking- and then he nodded and said, ‘I think I understand, _Ama_.’” I smiled. “And he did.”   
  
Inej’s eyes were distant. “Was he always so… grown up?”  
  
“…He had to grow up very fast.” I let myself be immersed in the memories. “…He was… How do you say?… An ‘old soul’? Yes. That’s it. There are children like him who can look at you, and it’s like…they can see everything.” I chuckled. “Even the things you wish to hide.”  
  
She nodded.  
  
“But Saints, when he got old enough to run around on his own, he was a troublemaker.”  
  
Her eyes sparkled. “I think that’s from both of us,” she said.  
  
“As I said: I died a thousand deaths,” I said dryly. “ _Aiyo_ , there was this one time- he must have been about nine- where he got his hands on some Shu fireworks.” I looked at her meaningfully. “And I mean, the big, _big_ ones.”  
  
“That sounds bad.”  
  
“Oh, it was,” I said. “He bought them from a street vendor during the New Year, and, being a nine-year-old boy, decided to see just how strong they really were.”  
  
Inej’s eyes widened as she caught on. “Oh, no.”  
  
“I was talking with Kaz in his office, and suddenly, there was this…this…” I threw my hands up, “ _BOOM_! And, I’ll tell you, Inej, I’ll tell you: The whole _house_ shook!”  
  
Inej covered her mouth, and I saw she vibrated with laughter.  
  
“We ran upstairs, and- oh, God-I was terrified! I thought some assassin had planted a bomb in his room!” I shook a finger at the outside. “But when Kaz forced that door open, there he was.”  
  
Inej smiled so wide her teeth flashed white. “Oh, you must have been furious!”  
  
“Now I want you to know: I have never beaten that child. My parents beat me, but I didn’t want to do that to my children.” I crossed my arms. “But when I saw that boy-I’m sorry, Inej- but it took all the restraint I had not to take a switch to him!”  
  
“I’m glad you didn’t.” She paused. “What happened after?”  
  
“Well, Kaz made him return the fireworks to the seller- but not immediately- I had other plans. Then he took him into his office, and I could hear him from the other side of the house.” I blew out a breath. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so angry with that child.”  
  
“And what did you do?”  
  
I smiled evilly. “No one can say I wasn’t…creative…when I decided how to punish him.”  
  
“Oh?”  
  
I pursed my lips and leaned in close to whisper, “I made him walk up and down the middle of the street, still covered in soot, with a huge sign that said, ‘I am an idiot who plays with fireworks’.”  
  
Inej’s shout of laughter was almost as loud as mine.  
  
“It gets worse,“ I wheezed, my eyes watering as I chuckled. “I walked behind him and made sure everyone- and I mean _everyone_ \- could have a look.” I held myself around my middle and wheezed. “Saints- he was absolutely _miserable_.”  
  
Inej and I leaned against each other as we laughed and laughed and laughed again.  
  
“Kaz let you do that?” she finally asked once she’d come up for air.  
  
“Oh yes.” I grinned. “Actually, he was the one who suggested I go with him.”  
  
Inej shook her head, still chuckling.  
  
I wiped tears of mirth from my eyes. “So…if you ever want him to mind, just mention fireworks.”   
  
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she laughed.  
  
We shared a smile, and suddenly, I had to tell her something. Something so vastly important, I couldn’t die before I said it. “He was the best part of my life, Inej. The very best.”  
  
Inej started to speak, but I took her hands in mine, needing her to hear me.  
  
“I was pregnant four times before I was seventeen, and my daughters were the only ones who survived.” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “When I left them, I made sure I would never have children again, because what sort of world is this for an innocent child?”  
  
Her eyes were heavy with sorrow. “Meiyu, I’m so sorry…”  
  
“No.” I spoke in Suli, and I knew she would understand. _“What is written in the heavens will be on earth.”_ I spoke her name aloud and felt some black poison drain from my heart’s core.  
  
Her hand clasped mine, and it gave me strength. “It is written,” she intoned.  
  
I nodded. “It is written.”  
  
We sat, face to face and hand in hand, and I knew it was meant to be.


	56. Soup

“ _Nihao, Ama.”_  
  
She grunted from her customary spot. _“I’m not your mother_ , _Cricket._ ”  
  
He used to correct her, but her memory’s skeleton was a fragile thing, so he simply placed a bowl of soup in from of her and offered her a pair of chopsticks and a spoon. “ _Soup.”_  
  
“ _Ah_.” She peered into the bowl and back at him. _“Get another bowl, will you?”_  
  
Quickly, he returned with one, and she took it from him without sparing him a second glance. “ _Mama isn’t feeling well today,”_ she said shortly _. “Understand?”_   
  
He nodded, and wondered for the millionth time what her childhood must have been like.  
  
_“You’re too thin,”_ she muttered, flicking him with scorching hot broth as she quickly levered the long noodles into the bowl. _“You’re not eating enough.”_ She prodded a few lumps of chicken out of her bowl into his. _“A boy needs to eat,”_ she informed him sternly, sounding almost like her old self. By the time she was done, she had fished out most of the noodles and chicken out of her bowl until all that was left was the thin, fragrant broth.  
  
The ritual seemed second nature to her.  
  
_“Go on, then!”_ She pushed the chipped bowl in front of him with an impatient hand. “ _I won’t have you waste good food!”_ she groused.  
  
Throat tight, he forced himself to eat the soup his mother taught him to make.  
  
With a thin smile of approval, her hands wrapped around the bowl and she lifted it to her lips and drank, long and deep.  
  
Naj remembered how, as a boy, _Ama_ had seemed warm and fierce as a summer storm- how, when he grew older, he began to see how she devoured every joy like a forest fire starved of oxygen; how every cell in her body had raged against a life spent in the dark. Such brilliant, hungry fire could hardly be contained in such an ordinary human shell, but it seemed the fire had burned its course, and only now did he truly glimpse the silence in her. The ash.  
  
What little he saw made him wish for those days of fire again.  
  
Seeing his bowl was getting empty, she slid a stray leaf of her _bok’choi_ into it and went back to sipping her broth. “ _I won’t be with you forever,”_ she told him bluntly. Her blank eyes never strayed the depths of the bowl. ‘ _You must be a dutiful son when I’m gone._ Dui _?”_  
  
Grief swallowed his words until all he found to say was: “ _I’ll try.”_  
  
“ _Only try_?” she repeated without looking at him. The lines in her face were deeply scored as she turned from his voice, cradling her soup to her like a shield. “ _It is good you were born a boy,”_ she said steadily. “Soon, yo _u will be a man, and you will no longer need me.”_  
  
Naj stared at his contradiction of a mother, and the cracks in his heart expanded- as if water that had seeped into them, little by little, and turned to ice. _“I’ll always need you,”_ he told her.  
  
A slow-moving emotion stirred underneath her steely façade, but it flickered out, just as it always did. “ _Oh_ ,” she said, her face lighting up with recognition. “ _It’s good to see you-?”_  
  
“ _Naj_.” Worn to the bone, he conjured up a smile- stilted as it was- because she was his mother, even if she didn’t remember it. “ _My name is Naj.”_  
  
“Naj,” she murmured. “ _Na-ji._ ”  
  
He nodded.  
  
Haltingly, as if her muscles moved without her full knowledge or consent, she pulled a simple cord from beneath her shirt and slipped something dull and glinting off the leather. Head down, she pressed a cool shape into his palm with a small, uneasy push.  
  
He didn’t look at what she had given him, for the comforting chill of her fingers had gone the moment he glanced up at her questioningly. _“Ma?”_  
  
Shoulders hunched, she shuffled around to face the East.  
  
The name was too much for her- that he knew; it pained her, _shamed_ her, in a way she would never accept; she railed against it. Some old pride wouldn’t allow such a name to be wasted on her- not now, not ever- because she saw it as a name she did not deserve.  
  
So he looked down at what was in his hand, and swallowed.   
  
A misshapen heart: bent from an iron pin; given by a smiling boy.  
  
When he looked up, Meiyu Han still stared out the window: rubbing the faded fabric of her skirt between her fingers with an odd, restless kind of vacancy.  
  
_“It makes me happy.”_  
  
He glanced at her, unsure if she had spoken to him. “ _Shen’me_?”  
  
“ _It makes me happy,”_ she repeated, “ _but I don’t need it anymore. Not really.”_ And then she was looking at him, and the expression on her face was resolute and sad and aware of everything he wouldn’t bring himself to say.   
  
Suddenly, the iron pin felt heavier than lead in his hand.  
  
_“Everyone leaves, Ma,”_ he found himself whispering. 

_I’ll always need you,_ was what he meant.  
  
With a rustle of shifting fabric, she closed the void that stretched between them to cup the side of his face with her hand. Then she gazed at him: wistfully, with eyes that seemed to find his from some great, insurmountable distance away. _“No, sweetheart,”_ they whispered. _“You won’t.”_  
  
Her brittle fingers brushed his hair back- just once, very gently- before falling back: back to her soup, back to her memories, an absentminded hum his only reply. 


	57. Doors (Kaz)

**Doors (Kaz)**  
  
It was just a door.  
  
A rectangle piece of wood attached to a hinge so it could open and close.  
  
I felt like I was standing at the edge of a cliff, either to jump or to fall.  
  
Nina looked between the door and me. “She’s better, now, but she’s not going to be alive for much longer.” She wiped her eyes and sighed.  
  
The door taunted me.  
  
“Kaz. She asked for _you_. She wants to see _you_.”  
  
I didn’t answer.  
  
“She’s said her goodbyes to everyone. I think she’s been holding on to speak to you.”  
  
“Don’t be dramatic, Nina.” My words were clipped. “Why would she want to talk to me? I’m the reason she’s there in the first place.”  
  
“Kaz…”  
  
“Don’t, Nina.” I hated the pity in her stare.  
  
“She’s dying, Kaz. She doesn’t blame you.” She sounded frustrated.   
  
“If she doesn’t blame me, she should.”  
  
The door loomed before me.  
  
“Just go, Da.” Naj’s voice was harsh behind me.  
  
Wordlessly I opened it a crack and slipped in as silently as to not disturb her.  
  
She lay so quietly. Always staring out the window. Watching the clouds. She looked like a woman from a painting. The sunlight fell across her in blinding shafts of white, making her silver hair shine like finely spun wire.  
  
I was the Thief of the Dregs. I could be a ghost if I wanted to be. I could be invisible.  
  
And yet she sensed me anyway. Her head turned, and she saw me. “Come here.” Her voice was raspy, but still clear.  
  
She reached her hand out like always, and I walked over. Gently I took it in mine, no gloves, and sat next to her. I would fight the rising waters if it meant giving her a proper goodbye. Her bones were like cut glass, jutting out of her at sharp angles. Light shone through her skin, making the blue-green of her veins stand out like ink on rice paper. Every breath was a rattle. And yet her eyes were as sharp as ever, and they bored holes into me now.  
  
“You left me.” She said simply. “Why?”  
  
“I had business.”  
  
Her laugh was a dry breeze rustling through a field. “You’re a liar, Kaz Brekker.” She didn’t sound angry. Just tired.   
  
We looked upon each other and didn’t say a word.  
  
Her lips turned up. “What is it you all say? ‘No mourners’?” she recited.  
  
I couldn’t bring myself to say, “No funerals.”  
  
Her smile faded, and she looked incredibly sad. “Is everyone going to be alright?”  
  
I opened my mouth, and-  
  
“-Shut up,” she growled, suddenly fierce.  
  
I closed my mouth, rueful. “But-“  
  
“No! I saw your face- you were going to say something depressing!” she accused, “and Saints know I don’t need that depressing, degrading shit!- so go on- lie!”  
  
I couldn’t help it. I slid a hand over my face and started to _laugh_.  
  
The ire faltered, and she started to giggle.  
  
_Saints- what the Hell’s wrong with me?_  
  
She caught sight of me trying to straighten out my face, and the laughter began to bubble up again.  
  
But the joyful nose turned to a gasping choke, and my smile immediately fell away.  
  
She curled into herself, eyes wide, trying desperately to breath; her throat worked as she gagged and heaved. The air made a wet hissing noise as it leapt out of her. Her torso arched violently with each hacking cough, and when it subsided, she sunk back, lungs shuddering from the effort. Shakily she slowed her breathing down until it became a colorless wheeze.  
  
It sounded horrible. A death rattle.  
  
I didn’t know what to do.  
  
She waved me off brusquely, and I relaxed back into my seat before I realized I was standing, hand outstretched to help her. Her breathing labored but steady now.  
  
In that moment, the light seemed to shine straight through her weak frame, illuminating her from within like sunlight through petal-thin porcelain; miles away from the woman who stood to meet me on our wedding day, who wore her red silks and fine gold like armor.  
  
Her lips curled up weakly, but it looked strained. “The Medik says I’ll need to be hooked up to one of those damned machines, soon,” she confirmed. “For my heart.”  
  
“But you don’t want it,” I concluded.   
  
Resolved, she shook her head.  
  
The last of my hope died.  
  
“Sometimes, we let things go so others may have them,” she whispered. “ _Ting’dong ma?”_  
  
I nodded, throat tight.  
  
“I did my best.” Her expression was fragile. “I hope you can see that, someday.”  
  
More grasping silence.  
  
“What were you like,” I found myself asking, “before?”  
  
“In Shu?” she asked.  
  
I nodded, and her eyes searched mine, face creased in confusion.  
  
“Why do you ask such things?” By her bewildered tone, she barely recognized me anymore.  
  
I let out a breath. “Because…” I didn’t want to think about why I was here; if I did, I wasn’t sure I could bring myself to laugh with her, knowing I would never be able to again. “Because I’ll never be able to ask you again,” I decided.  
  
There. For now, that was all I could give her.  
  
“Oh.” She stared at her wrist for a long time. “Before,” she started, “I was... scared. Angry. Lonely, most of all.” Her mouth turned down, and she didn’t look at me. “But I learned to live with the loneliness, as must we all.”  
  
I nodded.   
  
“So,” she continued, stronger now, “will he be alright?”  
  
I told her the truth, because she deserved no less. “Not at first. But someday.”  
  
Nodding, her eyes slid closed, and my heart stumbled. “Now,” she said suddenly, leaning back into her pillows, “Tell me something happy.”  
  
My eyebrows rose. “You’re asking the wrong person.”  
  
She rolled her eyes, and it was like nothing had changed. “Well, could you _try_?”  
  
“I don’t do ‘hearts and roses,’” I quipped, “but…yes. I’ll try.”  
  
Her face didn’t change. “That’s all I ask.”  
  
I knew then that her old words passed right over her head; that she had erased the memory of our conversation, all those years ago. A dull pain spread through my chest, but I brushed it aside, wondering how to proceed. “Once,” I began, “I had a dream that I met you when you were sixteen; before you ever knew me.”  
  
She listened.  
  
“You threatened to kill me.”  
  
“Oh?”  
  
“And when I made you mad, you threw me in the river,” I added, “headfirst.”  
  
Her eyes sparkled.   
  
“But you came back. I was a total stranger, and you came back.” I shook my head. “You took me to a “bridge” made out of rope,” I said, “and when I crossed it… I felt like I could fly.”  
  
Nostalgia sweetened her smile. “What happened then?” she whispered. Her words were a music box winding down for the last notes of its song.  
  
I swallowed. “When I asked you why you took me to the worst bridge, you told me, ‘You don’t seem the type to go for the easy path.’” I looked down at my cane. “You were strong, and smart, and your smile hasn’t changed a bit.”  
  
“Ah.” I was graced with that smile again: drowsy and content. “What a happy story.” Her eyes fluttered closed, and she drifted further and further away with every breath that escaped her.   
  
Panic flared to life, and I shoved it down. “ _Meiyu_?”  
  
She began to list to the side.  
  
Lunging, I reached her before she toppled over, hauling her upright as gently as I could. “Meiyu? Meiyu?” I barely recognized my own voice. “ _Saints_ -” I spat. Still holding her, I shot to my feet to yell for the Medik, but a hand wrapped around my arm: trapping the words in my throat until I could barely breathe.  
  
Gold eyes locked with mine, and I was paralyzed.  
  
“Kaz.”  
  
One name, spoken with love.  
  
“Kaz,” she said patiently. “Let me go.”  
  
My legs folded out from under me. I sat down, winded. “Don’t die, Meiyu.”  
  
She smiled at me, and I felt like I was being torn apart.  
  
Weakly, she gestured for me to come closer, and I leaned in to hear what she had to say. She charted my face, pensive, and her eyes swung to the left of me. Fixed on a spot, and seemed to stare for eons. Her eyes lit with joyful recognition, until-  
  
They snapped back to me, and I was lost in the gold.  
  
“I remember, now.” She touched my face, and her fingertips were like a brand. Her lips curled upwards. “You made me happy.”  
  
I swallowed.  
  
Dust hung in the air.  
  
Her eyes sparked, and flickered, and went out.  
  
The golden orbs dimmed…  
  
…Slid to the side…  
  
And didn’t move again.  
  
I went rigid.  
  
_No_.  
  
“Meiyu.” I shook her gently, not wanting to accept it. “Meiyu?”  
  
She was so still. Too still.   
  
I sat back.  
  
Shock. That’s all I felt. My mind was buzzing- blank- with dumb, stupid shock. It didn’t seem real- I found myself on the edge of my seat, waiting for her to open her eyes; smirk; ask why I was talking to her so desperately.  
  
But she didn’t.  
  
She had died.  
  
Just now.  
  
The silence yawned into a chasm that could never be filled. It grew and grew until it split me down the middle. It was like losing Jordie all over again. It was like finding out Inej was never coming home. It was like seeing Meiyu pick up the gun and point it at herself. _Even monsters had hearts,_ she had once said. Monsters have hearts, and we cut them out of ourselves because of things just like this, because there’s always- _always_ \- something to lose.  
  
I knew she would never wake up again.  
  
Everyone knew Kaz Brekker didn’t say goodbye. He just let go.  
  
But I couldn’t let go until I said one last thing to her. One last truth.   
  
“I never told you I loved you,” I said. “But… I think I did.” My voice was lifeless. “I know I did.”  
  
I wish I could have told her that when we were married.  
  
But we weren’t married. She had left me, and now she was dead.  
  
My knuckles turned white on my cane.  
  
She would never know I loved her, I realized slowly, because I could never bring myself to say it. Not after losing Inej. Not after what she did. I had denied her even that small comfort in the last moments she was alive, because of what she did.  
  
Grief and regret made my head spin.  
  
I yanked my hand away- needing to go somewhere- anywhere- so I wouldn’t have to see her lying there: empty of life.   
  
As I did, I was startled to see something soft drift to the ground.  
  
I looked down.  
  
A scrap of paper, folded many times. She had slipped it in my hand somehow. I hadn’t even felt it. It lay on the wood boards, the muted off-white square almost glowing in the light.  
  
It had my name on it.  
  
I picked it up. Unfolded the paper. Read the words slowly.

  
  
_“A bridge never crossed is like a life never lived.”_  
  
_You have your life. Now you must live it._  
  
_-Meiyu_  
  
_P.S._ the note added. _You’re still a bastard._

  
  
If I had any semblance of humor left in me, I would have found it in myself to laugh. I folded the note, placing it in my hidden pocket close to my chest. I looked back at her one last time.  
  
She was still strikingly beautiful. Just like Wylan said.  
  
I would have to burn her body, I realized. She wanted the ashes to return to An’Lin Shu, so she could rest with her family, so no bounty hunter could find anything to use and sell. My stomach churned at the thought of her body: cold, stiff, grey, lifeless.  
  
Ghezen, I would have to burn her body.  
  
My vision blurred, and I grit my teeth.  
  
No mourners.  
  
No funerals.  
  
Nothing could hurt her anymore: not pain, not sickness- nothing. She looked like she was sleeping, so I decided I was going to let her sleep. I was going to walk out of this room, and I was going to tell my son that his mother was dead, because I had to _._  
  
So I did just that.  
  
I bent over her lifeless form and pitched my voice low so only she could hear.  
  
“ _Wan’an, Meiyu.”_  
  
For the last time, I tucked my wife’s hair behind her veil, and for the last time, I kissed her cooling forehead, and all the while, I _hated_ myself for the sour bile that rose up my throat- for the animal fear that made head swim and my body recoil- because I could hardly stomach the brief touch of her cool, papery skin long enough to kiss my goddamn _wife_ goodbye.  
  
I walked away, my cane hitting the ground with harsh thuds until I wrenched the door open.  
  
Six pairs of solemn eyes met mine.  
  
Naj just stared at me, dry-eyed, knuckles white from clenching.  
  
I met their gazes and didn’t look away. I was Kaz Brekker, Bastard of the Barrel, and I didn’t have the luxury to grieve. “The Matriarch will be here soon. Say your goodbyes while you can.”  
  
Naj’s face was stony. He didn’t move. “I hate you.” A smattering of tears slipped down his face before they were dashed away by a furious hand. “You let Ma die.”  
  
Something fractured deep inside me.  
  
“ _Naj_ -“  
  
He leveled a frigid look at Inej. “It’s Nadir,” he said sharply.  
  
She fell silent, pain stark in her face.  
  
“I’m going to make the arrangements,” I heard myself say. My feet carried me to the door.  
  
“I guess you got what you wanted, then,” Naj stated coldly. Rage and grief emanated from him in icy waves as he turned on his heels and left, slamming the door behind him.  
  
I stalked away as the words my son rolled over me like thunder, ringing in my ears until it was all I could hear was: _you did this; I hate you; you let Ma die._  
  
The cracks widened to the point of breaking.  
  
The waters rushed in, I drowned in earnest.

…

_“Did you drown yourself in wine?”_

  
_“_ No! _Only…” She hiccupped slightly. “Swam…”_

_I shook my head at her tipsy giggles._

_“Someday, before I’m dead in the ground, you, Kaz Brekker, are going to dance with me!” Her eyes sparkled. “It’s in my contract!” she added, overly solemn and slurring a bit._

_(Dancing was_ not _in her contract.)_

_Like a top-heavy ship, she began to tip to the side, so I propped her up. “You’re drunk.”_

_“_ Yi’dian’r- just a little! _” she laughed. “But I can still stand! And you_ will _dance with me!”_

_“Don’t count on it, Meiyu.”_

_She wilted slightly. “You really don’t like me, do you?”_

_“When did I ever say that?”_

_Immediately- comically- she perked up. “So you do like me!”_

_“I tolerate you. There’s a difference.”_

_“Well, someday, you_ will _dance with me,” she declared, “and you’ll LIKE_ it _!”_

_I fought the urge to smile at her sheer determination. “Maybe.”_

_…_

I looked down at the object in my hands.

It was a humble glass jar. Tall, with a sturdy tin lid that screwed on tight- one of her favorite kinds to use for canning.

The Matriarch had taken care of her body, as tradition dictated.

I gave her the jar, and she gave me what was left of Meiyu. 

Phoenixes rose from ashes when they died, I thought bitterly. They were reborn. They lived. Meiyu was the Leader of the House of Phoenixes: the Blood Dragon of Shu Han- the Queen of her people. War, slavery, bullets, assassinations- she had survived them all.

But she couldn’t survive the sickness.

Or me.

And now, here she sat: ashes.

 _A dragon in a pickle jar_ , her voice chuckled in my head.

I was holding the ashes of a phoenix that would never live again.

The irony of it nearly made me choke, and not for the last time in my life, I wanted to kill someone. I wanted to kill- fight - tear something apart, brick by brick. I wanted to go back to a time before I had chased after that man and been shot; a time when she hadn’t given her life to heal me; a time when she was alive and driving me insane with her humming and her stupid jokes and her complete inability to listen.

But in the end, I wanted to be anyone- anyone at all- just not Kaz Brekker, who walked back home with the ashes of yet another person he had loved and lost.

I didn’t care who it was- anyone would be better than Kaz Brekker.

Anyone.

…

_“_ Anyone _can dance if they try,” Meiyu snorted. Her foot tapped to the music. “Look! Even Naj is on the floor! And- oh- who is_ that _?” In spite of her dragon’s eyes, she adjusted her tiny, professional-grade spyglass with the precision of an assassin on a mission. “Ooh! Kan’yixia!”_

_I stood in the shadows. “This is getting out of hand, Meiyu-”_

_“Oh, thank the Saints- he’s actually acting like a normal human being- (surprising, considering his unfortunate paternal influences)- ” she mumbled around her ludicrous contraption._

_“I’d say his_ maternal influences _are a bit more worrying-”_

 _“_ Anjing! _I’m trying to listen.”_

_Ghezen. I forgot she had a dragon’s ears, too._

_“He_ likes _her, doesn’t he?!” She sounded absolutely delighted as she collapsed her spyglass._

_“Your gift of observation is truly astounding.”_

_She gave me a look. “Remember what I said at the wedding?”_

_“_ No _-“_

_Her hand caught mine before I could pull it away. “Someday, before I die, you’ll dance with me.”_

_“Will I?”_

_“Yes.” She winked. “It’s in my contract, remember?”_

_I shrugged, feigning ignorance. “I still have time.”_

_Sighing, her fingers slid from mine, and she walked away. “No, you don’t.”_

_…_

Naj walked to the shore after he prayed for her soul; on his knees, he lit a lantern for his mother and pushed the lantern out to sea to join the hundreds of others.

It wasn’t for the Day of Souls.

It was for her.

The news that the Queen of Dragons was dead had rippled across the city, and the people answered. Hundreds- thousands of figures amassed along the shores to pay their respects. Lanterns from the West Side blossomed to life, bathing Ketterdam in red-gold.

A chorus of voices drifted along the wind, asking the gods to open wide the doors of Heaven and let in a queen.

Naj merely bowed his head in prayer, his face pale as death in the flickering light.

_…_

_Her face went pale. “I going to be sick,” she breathed._

_I grabbed the bowl and thrust it under her just in time for her to throw up._

_Three days had passed since she’d eaten; the moment the slice of apple hit her stomach, it had rebelled and clawed its way back up._

_She was thinner than the beggars on the street._

_I held her veil back. “Is it still like this?”_

_A shaky nod._

_I eased my hand away from the bowl and left to get her some water._

_Days had passed since she had eaten; she finished vomiting within a minute._

_It felt like a long time._

_“That’s the fourth time today, Meiyu.” I handed the glass to her and watched as she rinse her mouth and spit, grimacing. “Why didn’t you say apples made you sick?”_

_“Well, I told you they were a bad idea,” she growled bad-temperedly, “but you didn’t listen.”_

_“You say that about everything I try to force you to eat,” I countered dryly, tossing the contents out the window into the already-filthy streets._

_“That’s because it all sounds disgusting,” she muttered. Deftly, she popped open her container of pills and gulped down a small handful, relaxing the moment the drugs hit her bloodstream._

_I had a feeling they weren’t helping matters._

_“How many of those do you take?” I asked mildly._

_The lid snapped close. “None of your damn business.”_

_That was enough of an answer for me._

_Meiyu’s mouth thinned as I took her pills away from her. Her eyes followed them with a fierce possessiveness I didn’t like. “What are you doing?” They were dilated- flat and wild like Nina’s were when she on Yul-Bo’s Parem._

_I set them aside. “Try going without them for six hours.”_

_She scowled darkly. “You know I can’t do that.”_

_“Meiyu. You’re taking too many.”_

_“I know, but…” Trembling, her hand slid back to them almost without realizing it. “I need these, Kaz. The pain...I can’t spend my whole day feeling like this…”_

_I reached out to stop her hand, and then her talons were wrapped around my wrist._

_“Don’t.” Her eyes were full of quiet menace._

_Ignoring the ache in my wrist, I met her gaze. “You’re stronger than you look, Meiyu.”_

_“I-“ Suddenly noticing her bruising grip, she released her hold on me to stumble back into her chair, sitting down hard. “I’m sorry.” Her voice was faint, and she blinked down at the hidden, fading marks that encircled my wrist with something akin to fear._

_For once, it was me who took hold of her hands; made her meet my gaze. “You said you’d never let that happen again,” I said. “Make sure it doesn’t.”_

_Eyes downcast, she seemed to struggle with herself before nodding, once. “Alright.” She pulled her hands away and massaged her bad wrist, voice subdued. “Alright.”_

_“Good.”_

_“Don’t talk down to me,” she snapped, bristling._

_“I’m not.” I folded my hands over my cane. “People can’t help you if you don’t let them.”_

_Unhearing, Meiyu nodded again._

_She wouldn’t look at me._

_“Tell me what you need.”_

_The question made her retreat farther into herself._

_Her eyes were yellow instead of gold. Her skin was waxen from constant pain and vomiting. The bones in her cheeks were harsh angles that carved deep shadows down her face. Even her hair, which had always been knotted long and thick at the base of her neck, was thinning to the point that she constantly covered it with her veil to hide the stretched, exposed skin of her scalp._

_She never liked mirrors before._

_She hated them now._

_“I thought I was in control.” A bright sheen formed over her eyes. “But I’m not, am I?”_

_My hand gripped the crow’s head hard enough to bruise as I watched one of the strongest women in the world sag under sheer, crushing exhaustion._

_Today was bad. Very bad. The worse she grew, the more mercurial her mood became; it swung back and forth like a pendulum; it changed on a dime. Most days she hid her sickness well - from Naj, from the Crows- and once in a while, even from me._

_She didn’t seem to have the energy to maintain the illusion anymore._

_“What do you need?” I asked again._

_“Sleep,” she said, eyes closed. “I need sleep.”_

_I rose to grant her that small request._

_The tentative weight of her fingers settled on my arm, tethering me; asking me to stay. “I’m sorry, Kaz. You were only trying to help me…I do know that.”_

_A lone street musician played on the violin; the music was faint, but it carried._

_Years of loving music made Meiyu’s eyes dart in the direction of the sound- but the expression on her face was cold as embers from a fire._

_She sank faster than I could keep her afloat._

_So I would fight._

_I would fight if it meant Meiyu would fight, too._

That’s when I _stepped back and offered my hand._

_Her eyes flicked up. “What are you doing?” she asked tonelessly._

_“Honoring an agreement.”_

_Tired, she shook her head. “Not now, Kaz. I’m serious.”_

_I pulled her upright and ignored how painfully easy it was to lift her. “Then how can this hurt?”_

_“I’m_ sick _…”_

_“Sick isn’t dead, Meiyu.” When she glowered at me from under her lashes, I cocked a brow. “Here’s your dance. I suggest you don’t waste it.”_

_“What’s the point? I bet you’re awful,” she grumbled morosely._

_“I am, but does it matter?”_

_Her lips twitched despite her frown. “I suppose not.”_

_Barring no room for argument, I wrapped my hand around her narrow waist and took her hand in mine, and the two of us spun in a cramped circle to the distant melody of a violin._

_“You’re awfully close,” she muttered._

_I glanced down at her, and her dragon’s eyes became nervous stones that skipped over me with careful deliberation. Even after all these years, she never seemed to be able to look directly at me. Not when there was so little armor between us._

_Which gave me an idea._

_I feigned dipping her, and she yelped and flailed, face open with surprise._

_Clearly, she thought I’d let go._

_Stifling my grin, I pulled her upright and let her she pound my chest with her bony fist. “Ghezen, Kaz, you’re such a bastard!” She had snarled. “What the hell’s wrong with you?”_

_I smirked._

_She was looking at me, now._

_“Well?” She demanded._

_“Feeling better?” I drawled arrogantly._

_Her eyes narrowed to furious slits. “Much.”_

_Hands tightening around mine, I didn’t even register what she was doing before she swung me back and “dipped” me- only to let me drop- graceless and painfully- to the ground._

_Stunned, I lay on the floorboards and drank in the notes of her laughter like the finest wine._

_Still chuckling, she bent over me with a wicked smile. “Thank you for the dance,” she whispered. The soft fabric of her veil brushed against me as she pressed my cane into my hands and a tiny kiss onto my cheek. “I love you, Kaz.”_

_Her eyes shone with happiness, and when I looked at her- smiling down at me like she had been given a piece of the sun- I almost said it back._

_But I didn’t._

_I didn’t, but Saints, I wish I had._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry :(
> 
> (Please please please don't abandon this fic now! We're so close to being done and I swear I'll make this ending bittersweet!!)


	58. One Last Truth

**One Last Truth**

Months went by in a blur, with each one bleeding into the other. There were so many things left; so many dust-covered novels bound in memories; creased with use. But the one that caught my attention was old and stained: a moth-bitten volume of “scientific” biological studies performed in Shu Han. It looked like something some half-mad zealot had written- crammed to the brim with legends and ghost stories and nonsense- but one chapter had been marked. 

Marked with my name, in her handwriting.

I flipped to the page and read:

**_An excerpt from “A Study of Shu Serpents and Their Descendants”_ **

_Dragons are the Shu’s most sacred of creatures: it is said that the greatest of them once controlled the rain and lived in a golden palace at the bottom of the Great Sea. Men worshipped them with the Old Gods, and there was not a creature in Shu Han more revered. They chased wisdom in the form of a flaming pearl; they were known to grant wondrous wishes and call down terrible Curses. Once, there were many: the skies shook with the beat of their mighty wings, and all who looked upon them and trembled, for they were beautiful and terrible as a raging sea._

_But men came with their great “teeth of steel” and struck the proud dragons down._

_Nowadays, we know that most were hunted to extinction by the time of the first Grisha War, and the ones that survived were able to do so through adaptation. Dragons- especially Shu Cursemakers- are as intelligent as you or I. They have developed their own non-verbal form of communication, not to mention a highly organized social hierarchy (a matriarchal system lead by the strongest and oldest females) and maintain traditions dating back thousands of years. Family is the most important aspect of a Cursemaker’s life; females are extremely protective of their kin- especially their offspring- due to the incredibly high infant mortality rate. Hatchlings are the favorite target of hunters, as their inability to harness their magic makes them easy to capture and kill. Twins are exceedingly rare and considered a sign of great luck._

_Each part of the beast may be harvested for their magic. The heart, brain, liver, and kidneys are all highly prized for medicine, while their skins, horns, bones, and scales can be used as Grisha amplifiers or ground to powder (also for medicine). However, there is no greater treasure than a live dragon: one of the oldest sources of organic magic in the world._

_“Cursemakers,” as they’re most often referred to, are the last living link to the original Serpents of the East; the last of the true dragons were sighted nearly 150 years ago in the Spine. Through means unknown, the dragons were able to transform and interbreed with humans in order to produce a… hybrid, of sorts, which can transform at will; other than their eyes, there is little in the way of distinguishing a “_ Longren” _from a human being. Those who have studied them hypothesize that the condition is hereditary: passed down from the mother’s side only._

_A Cursemaker is both cunning and brutal. Survival is paramount, and an individual would not hesitate to slaughter anyone who stands to harm them. The Shu have a saying: “The dragons fell, and the Cursemaker rose from their blood.”_

_Of course, such devastating power has its price: the dreaded “Tears” of these creatures, though terrifying, is a mere release of toxins that have built up in their systems which must be ejected. The more magic is used, the more toxins are accumulated. (These toxins have long been used as biological weapons by the few who know of it.) Early deaths, then, are expected among Cursemakers; the most docile among them do not survive beyond the age of 60, while the most dangerous- and thus, the greatest producers of the toxin - will die within 25-30 years. There is no treatment available; the most effective way to extend their lifespan has proved to be the absolute abstinence from magic in daily life. As such, many parents who find themselves raising Cursemaker pups will not allow even the slightest use of magic in hopes that their offspring live as long as possible. Some even kill the pup at birth- either out of fear or pity- but the most common action, though, is the complete elimination of magic for the safety of all involved._

_The release of magic is essential to the physical and mental health of these fascinating creatures, and yet, it is a poison that will inevitably kill them._

_Truly, it is no wonder these beings believe in Curses._

_Their fate is sealed the moment they are born._

…

 _"Now you know,"_ she’d written, " _I really_ wasn’t _meant to live forever."_

…

  
She had been dying long before she ever healed me.  
  
She knew that Cursing would kill her in the end.  
  
She knew, and still, she chose to Curse instead of live.

… 

I hated her.


	59. Ghosts

The heavy silks dragged across the floor as she moved.

“Kaz,” it whispered.

Her shadow fell across me and didn’t waver.

I didn’t look up.

“Kaz.”

“You’re not real.” My vision was blurring from sleep and liquor. “Leave me alone.”

She didn’t answer. A thick shroud of a veil obscured her face, and I was glad for it. One thin hand seemed to materialize from the black, and it reached for the short glass.

Snarling, I yanked the glass away and downed half of it in one vicious swallow.

A line formed between her brows.

The candlelight illuminated the liquor, and it was gold, now.

Not amber. Gold.

I hurled the glass at the wall without a second thought.

I never wanted to see gold again.

Glass shards glinted against the scuffed floorboards like a spray of crystal.

When I reached for the bottle, I froze.

It was completely empty.

…

“Why can’t you leave me alone?”

This time, her hair rippled behind her like tendrils of windblown-mist. “Naj,” she whispered.

“ _Nadir_ despises me.” I paced, savoring the brutal pain that was radiating up my leg as fuel for my words. “He thinks I killed you, and now he’s doing his best to join you: pulling stunt after stunt, getting into that fight, killing those men who called you a whore-” my fists ached from clenching so hard. Once, the act of taking a life had torn my son apart; now, it made him come alive. “They’re beginning to call him Dirtyhands, now.”

I had never felt such dread as the moment I realized who my son was becoming.

And still, she refused to speak.

“You could have stopped.” I found myself shouting at the top of my lungs. “You could have stopped- damn you- I wouldn’t have asked you to Curse if I knew! But you didn’t, did you?- and now you’re dead! You died- and you deserve to suffer now- because you’re a monster!”

When she finally met my gaze, I barely suppressed my flinch.

Seeing those eyes hurt worse than my leg ever did.

“So many lies,” she said shortly. “Will you ever speak the truth?”

I looked away.

If I were a better man, I would have apologized. Begged for her forgiveness. Confessed what I really meant: that I would have traded spots with her in a heartbeat if it meant she could speak to my son; comfort him; keep him from destroying himself, brick by brick.

But I didn’t do any of those things.

I couldn’t.

So instead, I said, “Don’t bother coming back again.”

She disappeared, and I didn’t see her until spring.


	60. Letting Go

  
“You and your Shu traditions,” I muttered, fumbling with the match. “Ridiculous.” Finally, it lit, and I swore under my breath when the flame licked my fingertips.  
  
A single lantern glowed to life before me.  
  
The portrait of her and Naj sat propped up against its side.   
  
Sighing through my nose, I stared down at the face of my dead wife. Soft and steady as ever, her crooked half-moon smile tilted up towards me, and with it came the steady press of a hand; the lilting drone of humming; the clinging scent of peppers; the startling jolt of laughter; the soothing warmth of tea; the smirking quips of humor; the quiet comfort of companionship- all there and gone in the blink of an eye.  
  
_“I name you Meiyu to preserve your light.”_  
  
The sound of her name made me still.  
  
It had been so long since I’d said it out loud.  
  
“ _May you feel neither pain, nor fear, nor sadness.”_ I clenched my jaw against the ache. _“May you never know the pain of sickness, nor the misery of loss. May you dance in Heaven and always be free. May you look upon your family with love and mercy alike.”_  
  
Indifferent, the lantern’s mocking light flickered on.  
  
I fought the urge to snort. As always, my prayers were met with silence; really, the fact that I even prayed at all made me the biggest fool of the Barrel _._  
  
Minutes ticked by, and by the end, I was done: done with hoping, done with praying- just _done._ Of course she wouldn’t come back to see me- not after everything I’d done or said- so I snatched the lantern from its spot of honor and turned, fully intending to blow it out.  
  
But I couldn’t bring myself to do it.  
  
Not yet.  
  
The lantern was crumpled, but the light remained, so I forced myself to set it back onto the table; pick her picture from its place on the dusty floor.  
  
She loved that picture.  
  
She would have hated to see me drop it like that.  
  
“It’s the only one I have of you,” I wondered. “How is that?”  
  
Hours passed, and the light dimmed, flickered, and faded.  
  
The last thought I had before I fell asleep was that I didn’t want it to die.  
  
…  
  
“Kaz.”  
  
I fought to breathe.  
  
Tonight, red silk poured off her like freshly spilled blood. Her eyes, though: her eyes were liquid gold, and sad. “Kaz,” she said. “You’ve been ignoring me.”  
  
Of course I had. None of this was real.  
  
Resigned, she stepped back into the dark.  
  
I was on my feet in a moment. “Mei-“  
  
Her sigh was so familiar is hurt. “I’m here-“  
  
My hand wrapped around air instead of her hand. “I love you.” I said it fast before she could leave. “And I’m sorry.”  
  
There it was.   
  
The two things I had waited years to say, exposed and bleeding between us.  
  
She stepped close, and when her hand squeezed mine, I felt it. “I know,” she stated simply.  
  
“I can’t forgive you yet,” I snapped.  
  
“No,” she agreed. “Forgiveness takes time.”  
  
“I’m trying, though.” I swallowed. “For you.” I felt raw and unbalanced on my feet, but then her hands were wrapped around mine, and I was grounded.  
  
“Someday, I hope you _can_ forgive me.” She tilted her head. “But that’s not why I’m here.”  
  
“Of course it isn’t,” I said before I could think.   
  
She gave me a long, searching, _exasperated_ look, and the familiarity of the simple look knocked the air from my lungs and left me choking. “Kaz,” she said plainly, “you need to let me go.”  
  
My response to _that_ came as easily as my name. “I promised I wouldn’t leave you.”  
  
“And you didn’t-”  
  
“Then why are you dead?”  
  
Her expression quieted, and when her fingers grazed my face, they came away wet. “I was never meant to live forever _,_ ” she told me. “I only wanted to live.”  
  
I couldn’t meet her eyes.  
  
“Remember, my love,” she murmured. “Remember what it means to live.”  
  
All too soon, the press of her hand fell away, and I grabbed hold of it before the warmth left me completely. “Tell me you’ll be alright,” I demanded- _begged_. “Promise me.”  
  
Slowly, gently, she nodded.  
  
“Your word,” I growled.  
  
“My word,” she whispered.  
  
My jaw worked, but finally, I forced myself to let go. Love- it wasn’t simple; it wasn’t kind; it hardly made sense; it hardly seemed _right_ \- but I would never choose the easy path with her.  
  
I would never choose to forget.  
  
Before I could say a word, she stepped back and became a bird of fire that spread its wings and launched itself into the air. It swooped out the window and into the night sky: blazing like a shooting star until the radiant glow faded into nothing more than a shadow of a memory.  
  
Her smile, though.  
  
Her smile followed me through the dark.  
  
And when I opened my eyes to the morning, the lantern had finally gone out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys have no idea how long it took me to write this... But can I just say- THIS is what love is (or, at least, what love can be). Forgiveness is a powerful thing :)


	61. Epilogue: Destiny

It began as a single knock.  
  
Naj was visiting today, nothing more. Most days were spent doing odd jobs around the Barrel or working at Meiyu’s restaurant, but now, he was here, so he answered the door.  
  
“ _Nihao_.” A girl’s voice stumbled and shook. “ _Um…_ ”  
  
_“Hello. Can I help you?”_ Naj asked in Shu, sounding almost like the person he once was when his mother was alive.  
  
“I… _Wo zhao wo mama_.”  
  
Inej and I looked at each other and immediately made our way to the door.  
  
Naj stared at her, drinking her in like a man dying of thirst.  
  
The girl who stood in front of us blanched when she saw who we were. She was tall. Very tall. From the look of her she was around twenty. Her hair was twisted into a thick knot at the base of her neck, and her hands were long-fingered, linked together, twisting and twitching before clenching tight. There was nervousness in her that could do nothing to diminish her steely resolve. Her eyes were slanted and gold, like most Shu. But they blazed. They burned.  
  
Strange, alien eyes.  
  
“I have wrong house.” Her whisper was laden with mortification as she backed away. “Sorry. So sorry.” She turned on her heels and practically fled.  
  
“Stop!” Naj bolted after her. “ _Ni jiao_ _shenme?_  
  
Startled and wary, she faced him. _“Shenme?”_ she asked suspiciously.  
  
_“Wo jiao Naj.”_ He offered a small smile. “ _Ni ming’ma?”_  
  
She stared at him for a long while before speaking. _“Chenlin,”_ she said quietly. _“Wo mingzi shi Chenlin.”_  
  
“Saints,” Inej murmured.  
  
_“Ni meimei jiao Xiaohui?”_  
  
Her voice turned cold with old grief. “ _Xiaohui siwang’de.”_  
  
“ _Duibuqi_.”  
  
She nodded wearily.  
  
Naj looked at his sister with new eyes _. “Ni you bu you zhaopian de mama?”_  
  
Wordlessly, her hand slid into her pocket and she produced a worn, stained piece of paper, folded in quarters, and it opened to reveal a portrait of a young woman, veiled and solemn, with sad, fierce eyes and thin, sunken face. Her eyes were hard as iron, and her hands clutched two bundles to her with a ferocity few could match. It was masterfully drawn with cheap charcoal, and the artist had signed his name at the bottom in Shu. Her finger pointed at the woman. “This my mother.” She tapped the bundle to the left. “This is my sister. Died many years ago.”  
  
We all stared at the portrait of Meiyu; she was so young.  
  
So young and so sad.  
  
“You know her?” she asked hopefully.  
  
His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Yes.”  
  
“ _Zhen’ma_?” Wild joy lit her eyes. “Can you find her? Can you-“  
  
“Ama’s gone,” he whispered.  
  
Chenlin’s ecstatic expression collapsed onto itself. “Dead?” she repeated as if in a dream.  
  
“Two years ago.” Naj returned the picture to Chenlin. “I’m… so sorry.”  
  
She bit her lip; her composure hung by a thread.  
  
“She loved you,” he told her. “More than life.”  
  
Chenlin seemed to pause. “Ama?”  
  
He didn’t say a word- waiting for her to interpret his silence.  
  
Hope flickered, hardly daring to live. “ _Wo you_ xiao' _didi ma_?”  
  
Naj stepped closer, more determined and _alive_ than I’d seen in months, and nodded.  
  
“ _Didi_.” The smile that crept into existence was all Meiyu. “ _Didi!”_  
  
Brother and sister crashed together in a tangle of tears and laughter.  
  
“ _Didi_ ,” she gasped over and over again through that watery, blinding smile. “ _Wojia_.”  
  
Naj hugged his sister and smiled, and at that moment he was no longer sad, no longer furious and cold and weighed down by years of suffering in silence.  
  
He smiled with only happiness.  
  
She laughed with only joy.  
  
_There it is,_ I thought. _Inej’s smile. Meiyu’s laugh. Two things I would give my life to see again. Two things that prove magic still exists._  
  
“Destiny,” Inej murmured.  
  
I let myself smile faintly. “Destiny.”  
  
Her hand slid into mine.  
  
I squeezed back.  
  
_“Do you believe in destiny?”_ Meiyu had once asked. “ _In fate?”_  
  
Yes, I decided. Just this once, I did.  
  
Because, as I watched my son embrace his sister, I couldn’t imagine a life where this never happened.  



	62. My Name is Meiyu

_My name is Meiyu._   
  
_My daughter found my son, and my heart is a phoenix._   
  
_She told him she was raised by two of the kindest souls she knew: an old scholar and his wife, who had found her on the road as they fled their home. They took both her and her sister with them. They crossed the border into Ravkan- the border I opened- and lived a good and simple life. I bless their names a thousand times for loving my children._   
  
_These people raised my girls up. Told them they could do anything. Be anything. But when Xiaohui died, Chenlin lost her best friend, and was much changed. Things only got harder when she lost her parents last year._   
  
_Before they passed away, though, her mother and father had made sure to save up every last bit of money they had- and, with the help of friends and neighbors- they sent Chenlin to school: to a university here in Kerch! She now works in improving the relations between the Shu and the Ravkans: speaking for those who lived and died as refugees, longing for the freedom and safety and dignity that had been denied to them for so long._   
  
_Apparently, she impressed the Ravkan representative enough to be granted a personal audience with the King of Ravka himself. That’s how she learned about me- from Nikolai!_   
  
_I’m so proud of her; my brave, beautiful girl._   
  
_And Naj? Naj will never be the same boy who believed love was always good. Grief and anger have snuffed out that light and left a cold hole in its place. Sometimes, the cold wins over, and he forgets that justice doesn’t always mean death; that the love doesn’t always mean weakness._   
  
_But perhaps he will remember a different kind of love, called, “forgiveness.”_   
  
_I hope my son can learn to be happy again. I hope he sees that survival is only the bones of life, not the meat or the marrow. For now, though, he and Chenlin are just two young people figuring out how to be brother and sister for the first time._   
  
_He shows her the ins and outs of Ketterdam. She beats him in poker._   
  
_He shocks her with his criminal activity. She surprises him with her sense of humor._   
  
_I can tell they love each other already._   
  
_In many ways, leaving them will be a little bit easier, because I know my children have each other; I know, somehow, they will never be alone._   
  
_I’m not afraid anymore._   
  
_I can let go._


	63. The End

A woman stands like a pillar of steel with a veil woven of the purest white light. She stands side by side with a dark-haired man. He is dressed simply: a farm boy trying his luck in the big city.  
  
“You know,” she says easily, “Kaz taught me how to play poker.”  
  
Jordie Rietveld’s smirk was a kinder version of his brother’s. “Oh?”  
  
“Yes,” she quips. “And I’m going to mop the floor with your ass.”  
  
He whistles through his teeth, mumbling something along the lines of, “Kaz, you poor, henpecked bastard…”  
  
“What was that?” Meiyu Han crosses her arms and narrows her eyes in warning. “Hm?”  
  
“Nothing,” he coughs.  
  
“Go on.” She gives him a look that could curdle milk. “If you have to say something, say it.”  
  
He schooled his features, giving nothing away. “I _said,_ my brother was the luckiest man in the world to marry such a lovely woman as you.”  
  
“Ah.” Her eyes sparkled with suppressed laughter. “I thought so.”   
  
They both grin.  
  
Familiar voices make their heads turn; they both glance down the road at their family- alive and well - and share a secret smile. The ones they left behind are living the way life is supposed to be lived, and it makes them happier than they can ever say.  
  
“Not bad.” His face is quiet.  
  
“Not bad,” she agrees.  
  
“Well. I’ll see you soon, Meiyu.” He pecks her on the cheek and saunters away, hands stuffed in his pockets. “Be prepared for crushing disappointment,” he calls cockily.   
  
“Likewise!” she hurls back at him.  
  
He only laughs before dissolving like windblown dust.  
  
Once- just once- she looks her fill of her family before turning on her heels and walking away.  
  
…The walk became a jog…  
  
…The jog became a run…  
  
…The run became a full-blown sprint, and she leapt into the abyss, until-  
  
_\- I grasp the rope and felt myself fall- fall until it went taut and I spin round and round, whizzing down the bridge into the cooling mist: speeding over the river, traveling far from one side but closer to another. It is a place I had always known I would see again._  
  
_My veil flaps like the wings of a bird, but it feels heavy as sin, so I pull the pins from my hair and let the fabric be pulled away in a joyful snap of white._  
  
_I do not look to see where it falls._  
  
_I laugh as my hair spills behind me: long and dark and glossy as a crow’s wing. I dance as I fly. My scars- those imperfections that marred my skin- still remain. But I would not have parted with them, for what are we without our scars?_  
  
_All too soon, the other side is under my feet, and I swing upright._  
  
_I look around at the many faces here. There is Gonggong and Waipo- and there-there is Mother, and Father, and all my aunts and uncles, and all my cousins! And YuYan- YuYan, as she might have been before the war: beautiful and quiet and_ alive _._  
  
_And there is Cricket. My brother. My baby brother._  
  
_I hug him first, and his smile is just like I remembered._  
  
_“Hello, Ama.”_   
  
_And then, my heart stops- stops and begins again- as young woman with golden eyes suddenly stands before me, so tall and proud and_ alive _it takes my breath away. A boy is to her left- her older brother- and two girls to her right._  
  
Heaven is kind to children.  
  
_Looking at them, I feel the final part of myself fall into place._  
  
_I take them in my arms._  
  
_And I don’t let go._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe it; after over a year of writing and imagining and planning, this story is done. Whoever's out there- whoever has managed to get through this monster of a fanfic- thanks for hanging in there. I hope I stayed true to the characters (and life) and I hope this story felt as real to you as it did to me. Thank you to all my friends who supported me through the madness of writing such a long story (aka editing all those typos) and thanks for anyone who's taken the time to just sit down and let a fellow bookworm go crazy with this fanfic. It's really been an amazing journey, and even if I only have a few people read this story all the way through, it was worth it. 
> 
> -K


End file.
